In the End
by that-crazy-jesus-girl-sarah
Summary: They all want me to be something I'm not. And they know it. COMPLETE.
1. Same Crap, New Day

This isn't the first time some imaginary ailment has brought me to the nurse's office to obtain a much coveted sick pass. Quite the contrary. I have enough of those little yellow things to paper my bedroom walls by now, and then some. The nurse barely even looks at me anymore, but hands me my prize with the air of someone loaning someone else a measly number two pencil. No one wants to haggle with the parents of Ryan and Sharpay Evans if they can help it. And considering those parents fund the mainstream of the arts and music programs at East High, they can help it. Bottom line? If I say I'm sick, I'm sick.

I have to get home and cover these bruises before Sharpay has a chance to get her eyes on me. The queen bee of East High is liable to go spastic if she finds out the same people who practically worship the ground she walks on are the very same that find roughing her twin brother around an amusing extracurricular activity. Whether she believed they had done it or not, somehow or another there would be you know what to pay. And even I don't want to deal with that. My pink berets don't seem to matter in the least when I'm in her company, but out of it? Well, suddenly there's jocks coming from all four corners, each lining up to take a shot at smearing the queer. Which they have all long since deduced that I am. It's all rather interesting, really, especially since I can't possibly be with her twenty four seven. Not that I'd want to be. I mean, she is my sister and I do have to admit we've got that twin thing going on pretty well, but still--even prisoners are let out for a breath of fresh air once in awhile.

Now, the escape. Getting from the office to the front doors is easier said than done in my case. There are an overwhelming number of obstacles I have a chance of encountering at any moment, ranging from someone who might pass the word to Sharpay that someone's been using her brother as a punching bag, one posse or more who _have _in fact been using her brother as a punching bag, overly curious faculty, even Sharpay herself. The possibilities are endless. Makes me feel like I'm living in some weird video game half the time, where I gain or lose points for about a billion different things. Too bad I'm always having to go back to start.

Beret over my eyes, backpack in place, and I'm off. For me to get from the office to the front doors requires exactly thirty six and a half steps on my part; I've had plenty of opportunities to count. It really isn't so far, as long as I'm quick, easy, and smart.

Thirty six, thirty five, thirty four…

I score a solid bump on the shoulder. Whether it's accidental or on purpose, I don't know. Or care. I keep walking.

Twenty one, twenty, nineteen…

Oops. Lose about ten points there just for tripping over my own two feet, but luckily I regain my balance quickly. So it's okay. I'm almost there.

Eight, seven…

Come _on…_

Two, one, and half a step, and…

_Freedom._

"Ryan."

_Snap._

My eyes flick involuntarily upward.

"Oh…hey, Kelsi."

"Hi." The girl they call Playmaker gives me a tentative smile, shifting her empty lunch sack from one hand to the other. "What are you up to?"

"Uh…" I scratch my head, or rather, my beret. Neon orange today, with the neon orange button up shirt to go with it. In addition to my black chinos, I guess I look like the national poster boy for Halloween. Funny I didn't think of that before. "Nothing much. I lost track of Sharpay."

Kelsi pointed. "She's over by the fountain."

Good to know. I'd have to make my getaway from the opposite direction.

"Oh, I see her. Thanks, Kelsi. I'll see you around." _Keep walking, Kelsi. Please don't try to strike up a conversation today. _Don't get me wrong, Kelsi's great--she's really come out of her shell since things between her and Jason have been going so well, and it's been good for her. Still, she hasn't forgotten what things were like before that. She watches me get hassled constantly, but like an unspoken oath between us, she never mentions it. I can tell she feels for me, even relates at times. She's cool that way.

Lucky for me, she gets the vibe today. I get another smile and nothing more before she continues into school. Sweet victory. I dash around the back, down to the parking lot and zero in on the identical pink convertibles parked side by side. I wouldn't have been against a different color, but Sharpay insisted when our parents took us to pick them out on our sixteenth birthday that the likeness would be good for our reputation. Hers, maybe. I doubt I would score any points at all even if I showed up driving a silver BMW. Anyway, I didn't argue with her. Sharpay may be the most popular girl at school, but nobody besides me has to live with her--particularly when she doesn't get her way. So, pink it is.

I climb into my respective convertible after a quick glance at hood to ensure it's really mine--our hoods being the only distinguishing feature of our cars. A silver RE painted on mine, a gold SE painted on Sharpay's.

"Hey, choir boy--how about an early dinner?" a jeering voice called from a passing car. I don't know what else to do other than freeze.

"I've got a better idea--breakfast at dinner!" a second voice hooted, and suddenly something wet and slimy, multiple somethings, were running down my beret and back as the car roared away, my tormentors yelling in the distance. I'm almost afraid to reach behind me and discover what's been lobbed at me, but I know it's pretty much inevitable, so I ended up bringing a handful of shattered eggs to my eyes. Raw, of course. Boiled would have been much too kind. This was going to be murder to get out of the seats.

I dare to steal a glance over my shoulder, but my adversaries are long gone. No one is around except for a few stragglers attempting to make it back into school before the end of lunch bell and trying unsuccessfully to act as if they haven't witnessed the latest rag on Ryan Evans incident, Troy Bolton and Gabriella Montez among them. I don't mind Troy and Gabriella too much. Even if Sharpay has always resented them for beating us out of the leads for the winter, musical, I always knew they deserved it. Since then we've been on again off again friends, but I know I can't really count on them. Troy always looks so helpless when his fellow jocks are letting me have it, same for Chad and Zeke and Jason, but they all know as well as I do that for all the interfering they might feel inclined to do, they may as well stamp the word TRASHED in big black letters on their Awesome Reputation cards. And Troy in particular, as captain of the basketball team, is for sure not going to risk it. I don't know if I can blame them--there's no guarantee I wouldn't do the same thing in their position.

I pull out of the lot, trying not to notice them, and the drive home is a vague memory after that. I soon reach the private garage Sharpay and I share at the one point two million dollar mansion we call home and hope that none of the help is close enough to witness my climb up the lattice that leads to the deck just outside my bedroom. Trying to go through the front door is an idea only a man with no brains would attempt, and I know I have one, or at least half of one. I never know who will be in the general vicinity, so it's just better this way.

I wonder if Sharpay ever notices that like a fourth of her makeup goes to covering up the damage her admirers have done. If it's anything akin to Bill Gates misplacing a million or so bucks, I'm guessing she probably doesn't. I wince as I dab on the all too familiar pale blush that I'm assuming is closest to my skin tone, since nobody ever mentions seeing anything out of place when I'm wearing it, which seems to equal out to about three fourths of my life. I feel as if I should know better. This is an incredibly old song by now after all, and I'm tired of listening to the melody over and over again. Once my careful application is complete, I head to the football field otherwise known as our backyard to dangle my feet in the pool for awhile, my journal and lucky pen--which is in the shape of a flashlight and really does light up if I press a tiny button near the tip--in hand. I found it abandoned backstage on the day Sharpay and I scored the leads in our first play ever at East High and held on to it since then. Since there's no magic solution to my life right now, I might as well pretend there is by writing it down. For awhile I concentrate on the sensation of the clear blue water surging between my toes. The sun is bright but not scorching, the breeze gently massages the back of my neck. The scent of freshly cut grass is pleasant for my nostrils, and all is calm.

I wish I was anywhere but here.


	2. A Heated Situation

"Ryan." A dollar bill is tossed carelessly at me. "I need mineral water. Nothing flavored. It's too hard on my stomach at this time of morning. Be a love and get it for me." Sharpay didn't even look at me, favoring her adoring public over me. I bit back the impulse that wanted to snap at her to get it herself. Shar's my ticket here at East High. No way am I going to do anything to jeopardize that. I may be her brother, her twin no less, but I don't doubt that from a social standpoint, she'd dump me like a basket of dirty laundry if she felt her image was in question. Even if it meant junking up the reputation she honestly thought I had. So I trek to the cafeteria, feeling my pockets for some extra bills. I'm not so in the mood for a mineral water, but maybe I can grab some of that hot French vanilla from the coffee dispenser. Yeah, that's sounding wickedly good right now. That and one of those chocolate chip banana muffins.

I'm feeling cheerier now as I hurry to the snack line. The warning bell won't ring for another fifteen minutes, so I'll have plenty of time to enjoy my spontaneous breakfast. I pick out an all natural mineral water for my sister, her favorite kind, then cast my eyes toward the muffin display. Oh. No chocolate chip banana to be seen, but plenty of freshly baked blueberry. I can deal with that. I pluck one from its window encased shelf and continue to the coffee. Watching my sixteen ounce paper cup fill to the brim with the cream tan liquid soothes me somehow. I cap it and stick Shar's water in my pocket so as to manage all three items at once. I greet the lunch lady who's acting as cashier today, handing over my two dollars and fifty cents. She seems to be one of the few people in this school who greets me back without any strings attached. At any rate, she's never tried to shove my head in a toilet or toss me into the school dumpsters. I'll take what I can get.

"How's it hanging, Fanny?" a voice whoops as I exit the cafeteria. "Oh, you know, I forgot--it probably isn't." Laughter follows his remark, and I keep walking, hoping my failure to acknowledge Jeremy Straight, one of the top first string players on the basketball team, will cause him to lay off. You'd think I would have figured out by now that this never works. The next thing I know, Jeremy's slipping his slimy tentacle of an arm casually around my shoulder.

"Fanny," he repeated. One of my many prominent nicknames, this one in particular derived from the ever famous musical_ Annie_, with what I guess is to them an amusing twist. Other crowd favorites include Ryanne, Evelyn as opposed to Evans, choir boy, princess for those who are really creative, a few other terms of affection I won't bother to repeat here…as you have probably picked up on by now, I go to school with some real geniuses.

"You didn't have to buy me breakfast, Fanny," Jeremy said in a mock gracious voice as he helped himself to my muffin.

"Step off, Straight," a new voice called out, clearly irritated.

"As soon as I've finished eating, Danforth," Jeremy retorted. Too bad he doesn't live up to his name.

Chad seemed at loss for what to do after that. No surprises there. He rarely does, just send me one of those troubled glances he seems to favor so much when I'm around, as he did now. He chewed his lip for a bit, and then,

"I don't suppose you could be doing something useful."

"Like what?" Jeremy seems completely unconcerned as he finishes off my muffin. Anyone else might have demanded fifty cents from him, good for another muffin, and maybe an extra fifty cents for pain and suffering. I personally like my face the way it is, or I will once the black eye and gashed cheek heal up.

"Like your jump shot."

Jeremy pauses, narrowing his eyes at Chad. "What about it? I say jump and it shoots."

"Not at the regional last week, it didn't." I wonder how far Chad will dare to go. Nevertheless, I can see Jeremy's temper already beginning to flare.

"That's nice of you to notice, considering you spent the majority of the game on the bench," he shot back coolly.

It wasn't quite true, but Chad didn't let up. "You'd be amazed at what people notice from the sidelines," he said evenly.

Jeremy stared hard at Chad, then glanced at his cronies, then back at Chad. I guess he was trying to figure out whether to pound Chad into the floor or let it go. After a long silence, he simply gave Chad a tight smile.

"Okay, Danforth, don't have a seizure," he said. "I'm walking. But first I need something to wash down this delicious remnant of blueberry goodness." His hand shot out, yanking my coffee out of my grip, and before Chad or I could react, he first made to drink it, then feigned a slip so that the liquid seemed to jump from its cup to my face.

The intense burning didn't even register at first, but as the searing coffee settled on my masked wounds, it became a painful reality. I choked, only vaguely aware of Chad trying to leap at Jeremy and someone else intercepting him. A few beats later, I was being steered toward the nearest rest room, and Jeremy and his posse were scurrying from the scene.

The sound of water from a faucet came to me full blast and I yanked my black fedora from my head before frantically trying to drown my face, welcoming the refreshing coolness of it. The stinging didn't cease, but after a minute or two I could open my eyes. At least they had been spared.

"You okay, Ryan?"

I glanced at Troy who had posed the question, to Chad on my other side, who didn't seem to know what to say.

"I'm okay," I answered, "but I don't know about you guys. You just might have made your way on to Jeremy Straight's hit list."

Chad found his voice. "We've been on it for awhile, bro," he reassured me. "Ever since Troy was voted in captain. He always wanted that spot. No worries, you're still at the top." He paused, not sure if he had said something untoward. "Anyways, he'll forget about it by practice."

"Man, you're a mess," Troy observed. The coffee had decided that my shirt didn't deserve to miss out on all the fun. "You got something else you can throw on?"

"Yeah, in my locker," I said. Shar is anal about the two of us keeping a sufficient amount of emergency outfits at hand, on account of the fact that, according to her, we can never be too prepared for a potential fashion emergency. Gee, and I wonder why people are taking numbers for the chance to swing at me. "I'll get it, though," I added hastily. I had some touch up work to do, and it would be just like Troy and Chad to find the small container of blush I'd swiped from Sharpay and make me the bane of their existence for sure. "You guys can head."

"You sure, dude?" Chad asked.

"Yeah. Thanks. But I've got it." _Leave already._

"Okay, well…" Troy hesitated. "Look, I'm sorry about Straight. He's a jerk. Even my dad thinks so. But…"

I knew what he wasn't saying: There wasn't much, if anything, anyone could do about him. Or anybody from any team, for that matter. The jocks ruled. Always.

"Hey, is that for the queen?" Chad asked, and I looked down numbly. I had held on to Sharpay's water the whole time. "Good thing nothing happened to it, Ryan. You're guaranteed to have bigger problems than Straight and his creep squad if it had. Here, I'll give it to her if you want."

I tried to chuckle with him, but I don't think it worked too well. But I did take him up on his offer. The two hesitated a bit more before finally departing, and I dared to look at my unveiled face.

"Lovely," I murmured.

The rest room door swung open, and though I didn't know the guy who entered from Adam, he shot me a full on sneer.

"Hey, Barbie. Who let you out of your dream house?"

"Ken did. He decided I could have my driving privileges back."

Wow. I swear I didn't know where that came from, but it caused the guy's sneer to falter a bit.

"Yeah, I'd need my sense of humor too, if I were you," he said, before retreating over to a urinal. I couldn't disagree with him.


	3. An Invite To Innocence

"Mrs. Jensen, Ryan's got the answers written on the seat of his chair," Christopher Hertz announced. Unlike Jeremy, Christopher _does _live up to his name. And since he's one of the hockey team's most renowned players since an apparently spectacular save at the playoffs two months ago, I guess he feels he has a right to.

As for me, my heart pretty much leapt to my throat. I always rolled my eyes at that phrase before it actually happened to me, and there's just no other way to describe it.

"Mr. Evans?" Mrs. Jensen was making her way toward me. This was so not good. My parents could be paying her entire salary and taking care of her mortgage and she'd still find a way to sentence me. Chances are she's just bitter that her area of expertise--the fabulous world of algebra two--isn't included in my parents' funding craze.

"Stand up, please."

I obeyed, and saw what she saw; every answer to that day's math quiz written boldly in red ink on the seat. I had been so preoccupied with the morning's events that I hadn't even noticed when I sat down at the beginning of class.

"Very clever, Mr. Evans," Mrs. Jensen said, "so clever, that I think you should go let the principal know how wise you are. Now."

"Mrs. Jensen, I swear I didn't know about this," I protested. "I…" I trailed off at the callous expression that had taken over her normally not so attractive to begin with features. I knew how useless it was. Whoever had set me up knew what he was doing. There was a slim to none chance that I could prove that I hadn't actually been cheating.

"The _principal_, Mr. Evans," Mrs. Jensen repeated. _Okay, okay, I get it. Someone obviously got up on the wrong side of the broomstick today. _I idly wondered if there was a Mr. Jensen, and decided that if there was, I'd offer him free room and board when he finally decided to leave her. The poor guy probably wouldn't need anymore headaches after that. With that in mind, I gather my things and begin my merry trek to the principal's office.

"'Morning, Mr. Evans," Mrs. Breckett, the secretary, greeted me, almost tiredly. We've gotten to know each other quite well in the past two years, and although I've told her time and time again to call me Ryan, her bashfulness seems to return whenever I'm in her presence. And with my smashing charm and witty personality, who could blame her? Ha ha. "The nurse isn't here right now, so if you're looking for a pass, you'll have to wait."

"No, it's not that. Mrs. Jensen sent me to see Mr. Matsui."

"I see. Well, have a seat and I'll let him know you're here to see him."

At least I know it's safe to take one here. I studied the triangular pattern in the carpet, glancing up only when I heard a voice I knew.

"Here are the attendance sheets, Mrs. Breckett," Gabriella said cheerfully.

"Thank you, Miss Montez."

"Hey, Ryan," Gabriella chirped when she noticed me. "How's it going?"

"It's going."

"Yeah." She lowered her voice. "I went by Jensen's class on the way here. I figure you've got about ten or so seconds before Sharpay makes her grand appearance."

As if on cue, my sister sweeps dramatically into the office.

"I demand to know the meaning of this!" she shrieked, pointing what almost seemed like an accusing finger at me, although I knew that she knew that I was in fact the accused. "No one calls in my brother or me without a good, valid explanation!"

"Don't look at me, Miss Evans," Mrs. Breckett defended herself wearily. "I have nothing to do with this. But I'm sure the principal would be enlightened to hear your thoughts."

Sharpay smirked in the secretary's direction. "Oh, believe me, Mrs. Breckett, I don't think he'll have much of a choice."

At that moment, Mr. Matsui emerged from his office, earning himself a few kudos in my book. It had to have been impossible not to hear my sister screeching like a banshee from the middle of the South Pole, much less two or so feet away, and if I had been him I would have thrown myself out of my office window.

"Mr. Evans." He nodded at me, then threw a puzzled look at Sharpay. "Miss Evans?" He obviously wondered what business she had here. He should have known by now that principal or not, almost everything here at East High is Shar's business in some respect or another.

Sharpay crossed her arms and fixed the principal in a level gaze. "I am merely interested in knowing the grounds in which--"

"_On _which, Miss Evans," Mr. Matsui corrected her.

"_On _which my brother has been summoned to your office, and please do not correct me, it is not very becoming of you."

Gabriella's eyebrows shot up and I knew what she must have been thinking. Even though she should have been more than used to my sister's standard of conduct by now, her own sweet disposition had never left her. Gabriella Montez would surely walk on rusty nails and broken glass barefoot rather than address a person in authority in any way similar to Sharpay.

But in the end, it didn't matter. Mr. Matsui apparently found it in his best interest not to respond to her, instead focusing on me.

"All right, Mr. Evans," he said calmly, "I just got off my extension with Mrs. Jensen, and I think--"

"Mrs. Jensen? Oh please!" Sharpay rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Honestly, who rolled around in bong water and dreamed _her _up?"

The principal paused. Then, "I think I need to hear what you have to say about this, so we're just going to take a few minutes in my office and--"

"Lead the way," Sharpay commanded.

"Miss Evans--"

"That's right! _Miss _Evans, daughter of the extremely eminent _Mr. _and _Mrs. _Evans, who won't exactly be tinkled pink when they learn that you dragged their son to your office without justifiable _cause."_

"Miss _Evans," _Mr. Matsui repeated, a warning tone in his voice, although anyone could see he understood that Sharpay spoke the absolute truth. "There's a question right now of whether or not your brother was cheating on his math quiz--"

"_My _brother? I think you need to check that memo again! Ryan's got enough brains to float the Titanic. Why would he have any reason to cheat?"

"I don't think he does." Mr. Matsui met my eyes. "I don't think you do, Mr. Evans. That's why I need to figure this out. Mrs. Jensen claims that every answer was written on your desk chair, and that's unacceptable, whether you had anything to do with it or not."

"Oh, Mr. Matsui, please." Sharpay let out a flighty giggle now. "I know Ryan's my brother, but he's not _that _brilliant. Sure, he's made a slow hobby out of bringing home A's, but there are times where the boy can throw a rock at the ground and miss." She winked at me. "No offense, Ry."

"None taken." And I really hadn't. She was kind of right.

"Well, the fact is, I don't have any proof, and Mrs. Jensen doesn't have any proof that you were cheating at all. Those answers could have shown up at any time today, and this wouldn't be something I'd expect from you. Frankly, I'm a little surprised that Mrs. Jensen did." Mr. Matsui paused again, then cleared his throat. "So here's what we're going to do. I'm going to give her a call back, and under my instruction, you'll take the quiz again. If you're truly not prepared for it, we'll know by the end of it. I don't see why we need to involve your parents unless there is solid proof that we need to do so."

I chuckled inwardly. Mr. Matsui may have thought he was sounding gracious, but I knew his game. He was really doing nothing more than saving his own butt.

"I will escort you to your phone and make sure the call is handled properly, Mr. Matsui," Sharpay told him primly, but the principal shook his head.

"That isn't really necessary, Miss, Evans, and I think you have a class to get back to. I promise this will be dealt with in the most appropriate manner, and if you have concerns after that, you can come see me." I could almost hear what he was thinking: _God forbid. _

"Shar, I'm okay." I had to speak up at that point. I was probably the only one who had a hope of getting her to shut up and get out of there.

"Fine," Sharpay huffed, "but if there's any more trouble…" She didn't finish before she exited the office, but everybody in it caught the implications of it quite well.

Mr. Matsui tried to appear as if he didn't feel that a colossal weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Mr. Evans, I'm going to expect that you go back to Mrs. Jensen's class during your free period this afternoon and retake this quiz, but I won't send you back now as there's only five minutes until lunch. You can stay here in that time." He nodded at me again and turned back into his office.

Gabriella, who had remained rooted to her spot the whole time, raised her eyebrows at me in amazement.

"Ryan, you got so lucky!" she exclaimed.

"Nah." I waved her off. "It was Sharpay who got lucky. I just happened to benefit from it."

"Yeah, well…" Gabriella came over and sat beside me. "That was a pretty good break, but maybe you could use another one. Troy's dad is throwing a big post game party at their house on Friday night. You should come."

I bit my lip, staring down at my impeccable white tennis shoes as if they held the secret of the universe. "I don't know, Gabriella," I said at long last. "Won't the whole basketball team be there? And the guys from other teams? I…"

"I know, Ryan, but you can hang out with Troy and me. And Chad and Taylor too. Plus, Troy's parents will be there."

"Well, maybe." I'd have to think about it. How much trouble could there be if the parental units insisted on being present? At the same time, you can never be too careful, parental units or no. I am a wise student to the playing it safe method.

"Troy," Gabriella called out as she spotted the basketball wonder out in the hallway, and reached out to grab his arm. "Tell Ryan he has to come to your party on Friday."

"For sure you have to," Troy agreed. "Sharpay's already making it out to be the most major event of the year, although I have my doubts. My dad just thought a bunch of us should chill after the game, win or lose--it's been a long season already and we're not even halfway through. So you really should come support us."

It was kind of a poor choice of words, in my opinion considering my warm and loving relationship with any team at East High. But I knew Troy didn't mean anything by it.

"It's like I said," Gabriella said, almost pleadingly it seemed, "if you just stick with us, there won't be any problems."

I shrugged. Usually I go to these things as Sharpay's accessory, or so it seems. They're like a social status obligation for her. On my own, I would never have the guts. The high points of my weekends don't quite involve any kind of hot parties or large common gatherings, unless its some fancy function under my parents' orders, rather whatever play I'm currently immersed with and attempting to acquire any means of inspiration for prospective poetry material. Oh yes, and the Saturday morning cartoon lineup. That's always sweet.

"We'll see what happens," I told them vaguely as the bell rang, signaling lunch. "I need to make a locker stop right now, though, so I'll see you guys later."

I made my way through the swarm of starving teenagers, intending to merely drop my books at my locker and then head back to the cafeteria. Rumor has it that there are cheeseburgers today, the one thing the East High caf doesn't screw up too badly, and I'm hoping I'll be lucky enough to get there in time to get the pick of the litter. Stragglers are forced to settle with the overcooked grilled cheese sandwiches that you just _know _have been sitting at the bottom of the pan for the last twenty five years or so, and I'm not really in the mood to be one.

All thoughts pertaining to cheeseburgers and otherwise fly out of my head as I reach my locker, making me realize that I really _should _just let them carve the word MORON into my forehead like they've been wanting to do for so long and just be done with it. I should have known nobody's going to let me enjoy one simple cheeseburger. Instead I get a crude drawing slapped on to my locker, held in place by a couple of pieces of old gum, depicting two figures. One is obviously Sharpay, positioned center stage in the theater, the spotlight completely on her as she sings to her own glory.

And then there's me.

Hanging from the rafters behind her.

Literally.

Noose around my neck, X's for eyes, tongue dragging out.

I'm clearly dead.

I order myself to yank the makeshift drawing from my locker and tear it into a thousand pieces, but my fingers won't respond. To see yourself portrayed in what is possibly one of the cruelest ways a person could ever die, knowing that someone, or perhaps many "ones" had thought about it in the time it took to draw it, no matter how rudimentary, makes your heart stop, in a way that, at least for me, had not occurred before. I swallowed several times, not crying, but not knowing how to take it in. The hall were empty now, or they would have been if it wasn't for the presence I sensed just behind me. At first I didn't think I could muster up the courage or the energy to turn and see who it was, but after what seemed like years, I glanced over my shoulder.

Kelsi's normally bright blue eyes were vacant behind those wire rimmed glasses; her gentle features matched. She stared at me, then the drawing, then seemed to come to life. She tore it from my locker, crumpling it in her delicate fist, and tossed it into the nearest trash can.

"Come on, Ryan," she urged me quietly. "Let's go to lunch."


	4. Burning Point

Can you imagine what it must like to be the Earth? And by that I don't mean the billions of people stomping all over you every day, or the pile of litter you're half buried in. I mean how impatient you must get in the midst of that excruciatingly deliberate three hundred and sixty five day rotation. And then what? You've really got nothing to show for it, and you end up starting all over again. Lame.

Anyway. Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah. Well, maybe in some respects I can relate to the earth, since that's about how long it felt for Friday to get here. Three fun filled days of bearing the brunt of Christopher Hertz's fury after I emerged unscathed from his little set up (note to self: stock up on blush), stuck in the locker room pretty much butt naked after fifth period gym when the guys decided it would be a total kick to make every last item of my clothing disappear while I was in the shower, refusing to return them for an hour, my locker so stuffed to the brim with tampons that they cascaded to the floor when I opened it, along with a note that read "Dear Evelyn: We know how it can get at that time of the month, so we thought you should be prepared. Love From All Your Friends."

Good stuff.

So you can imagine how less than thrilled I was when Gabriella and Taylor McKessie caught up with me Friday before the final bell and tried to broach the party idea with me again.

"You know you're going to have to show up with Sharpay anyway," Taylor pointed out when I tried to hand them some feeble excuse about homework. "And if you try to get out of it, she'll find some way to make you." She was right. If Sharpay went, I went. The excuse train wouldn't come to my territory. And I would bet money on the fact that my parents wouldn't be any help. They believed that an Evans was obligated to take any and every opportunity to "showcase." After all, we _did _amount to a lot, and not just in dollars, or so the famous speech goes. Any slips, any lack of appearance at some vital function save for a life or death situation, any _anything, _and people might start talking. God forbid should Sharpay Evans prance around with the tiniest little wisp of blonde hair out of place; she must be on crack. Forget Sharpay, how about that Ryan kid? He's been hyped up on LSD since birth. Heard he got some girl pregnant and didn't even know how it happened; he thought she just wanted to be friendly. Hahahahahaha.

"Right, Sharpay?" Taylor added as my sister suddenly emerged from the after school crowd. Well, correction. "Suddenly" might be stretching it a bit. It was more like Moses parting the Red Sea.

"What's right?" Sharpay asked indifferently as she examined herself in her compact mirror, not bothering to make eye contact with Taylor. For all the people who marvel at Sharpay, she has very little, if any, tolerance for any of them. Taylor and Gabriella are definitely two that have been spared the utter fascination over my sister and Shar knows it, but she's never acknowledged it.

"Ryan's coming to Troy's party tonight."

"Well, of course he is," she snapped, then raised her eyebrows at me. "Was there any question?"

I knew better than to answer that.

"Anyway," she continued, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, "everyone knows that there really is no party unless Ryan and I are there."

No, but I'm sure there would be quite a party amongst certain people if I wasn't.

"Oh, right…since you guys are what it's all made of," Taylor said with complete seriousness, earning a beam from Sharpay, who obviously didn't catch the sarcasm.

"Isn't it always?" She giggled, and, Shar being Shar, naturally made it sound more like a statement as opposed to an actual question. "Come on, Ryan," she ordered, switching tactics as quickly as my mom tends hire and fire the help when she's actually around to do it, "we need to get good seats at the game. Sitting near the top reflects badly on our status."

I hesitated, not knowing how to tell her I really wasn't up for the game without getting my butt kicked from here to Alaska. Sure, I wouldn't have to take any crap while in Sharpay's presence, but there's no way to stop a person from thinking whatever he wants, and every high five and back slap would remind me of that.

"Yeah," I responded vaguely. Who was I kidding? I couldn't tell Sharpay no. No one could. If she wanted to get good seats at the game, then by God, we were going to get good seats at the game. There was no middle ground.

So we basically left Taylor and Gabriella in a cloud of dust, or we would have had there been dust in the vicinity.

"Smile," Sharpay hissed out of the corner of her mouth as we strode through the after school throng, confident with poise, and me attempting. "You're not being carted off to military school."

Right. Just heading off to an earsplitting basketball game with about a thousand other people who would give their right hand and possibly a leg to see me used as the actual basketball. As far as I'm concerned, they're the same thing.

"What do I keep telling you? How are people supposed to remember how great we are if we don't remember it first?" Considering she probably remembers it well enough for both of us. "Do I have to tattoo it on your fat forehead?"

Ooh, now that would be a lovely complement to my moron imprint. And my forehead is _not _fat.

"Kelsi," I blurted out as we passed her at her locker, and without a word, she fell into step behind us, knowing that apart from the fact that Sharpay considers her worthy enough to write our music, she wouldn't think to stop for her. But I have a lot of gratitude for Kelsi these days. I think I always have in a sense, but especially now. She hasn't said a word about the locker incident, and she wouldn't let an awkward silence get in the way of it at lunch afterward, coming up with probably any and every random topic she could conceive in order to keep me entertained. Since that's not usually a Kelsi ingredient, I have to appreciate her effort. I know she remembers the days of simply being "that weird piano girl," and at times people treat her like she still is. But I think she's trying to do for me what she wished someone, whom I guess should have been me, now that I come to think of it, would have done for her, even if it didn't exactly solve anything. And I know she's still supporting me, even if she never actually says it. With Kelsi, you have to learn how to read into things, and then after awhile, she'll let herself go. I'm still at the reading stage. Shar's still at the dominating stage. Oh, wait. She always _was _at the dominating stage.

"Are you going to the after party, Kelsi?" I asked her.

"Well, I kind of need to, since Jason's on the team and he'll be there," she explained, and I understood what she meant. The girlfriends of the team seemed to decorate its members and make them look a lot better than they already did, if that was possible.

"Well, of course you need to, Kelsi, Jason or not," Sharpay cut in, in a tone much akin to the one she might use if Kelsi had just told her that the grass was in fact blue. "It will be good for you to get some more exposure, and that won't happen unless you're with Ryan and me. Nothing _positive, _anyway." That's when Sharpay stopped being so "concerned" over Kelsi's social welfare and started rattling on about needing a pianist at one of my mother's millions of upcoming charity luncheons. Sometimes I swear these people _create _charities just to have a luncheon to go to. So much so that I've been tempted to bring up the idea of a Save Ryan Evans Foundation ("Help us get the East High idiot out of Albuquerque and off to a boarding school in Switzerland!"), but that's probably the one idea that wouldn't fly. Good to know that your own mother won't put you in front of a "Kittens For A Kause" benefit. I ended up having to add that to my Reasons to Live list. It's getting quite long.

Neither of us spoke as Sharpay cleared the way for front and center spots in the bleachers. It amazed me, as it always does, how people seemed willing to practically throw themselves out of the way to give her space, lavishing her with praise the whole time, and then they'd see me, eyes darkening for maybe half a second before they'd get over it and treat me the same as Sharpay. Well, they gave their best shot at what ended up being a poor imitation of how they treated Sharpay, anyway. We had lost Kelsi in the process, and when I glance around, I saw that she had been left several rows back, and was digging a paperback out of her school bag. Though dating Jason had given her at least some credit, more than I had, that was for sure, the majority of the school body still didn't bother to recognize it.

"…Aaaaaaaaand the East High Wildcats are at it again as they take on the Redwood Warriors on this incredibly sunny Friday afternooon…" The announcer's reverb shot through me like a sonic boom. I really wasn't in the mood for this, especially owing to the fact that a large family of leprechauns had decided to take root in my head, using their little golden hammers to chip out parts of my brain in order to make it more liveable.

"What's the deal, Ryan?" Sharpay snapped at me, jabbing a painful elbow in my side. "You look about two seconds away from your death bed."

"Yeah…headache," I mumbled. And that was the least of it. Those leprechauns were really doing a number on me. If they ever decided to materialize, they could make a pretty penny in the construction trade before retiring back in Ireland with handsome sums that would finally allow them to lay of all the gold hunts.

"Why didn't you take something for it earlier?" She still sounded irritated. Her show of care and concern for my health was overwhelming. She sighed heavily, the way one might do upon learning that they had to get a root canal on a Saturday afternoon, then much to my surprise, shoved her car keys into my palm. "I left some aspirin in my glove compartment. But hurry up. Ducking out in the middle of a game like this makes you look lame."

Newsflash, sister dear--just going to my _locker _makes me look lame. I doubt cutting out of the game would make that any worse.

But I wisely chose not to argue with the person who had just provided me the out I needed, and I wanted to run with it. A trip to Shar's car and maybe I could sneak off to that coffee shop down the street. I'd come up with an excuse for Sharpay later, but I needed some chill out time a lot more than I needed to watch Troy Bolton dunk twenty six baskets in a row at the moment.

Uplifted by the prospect, I hurried to the concrete steps leading down to the parking lot, but my elation didn't last long,

"Hey, fairy, want a cigarette?"

Take my word for it, your feet leaving the ground as you're yanked behind shrubbery and facing four or five rough guys who look like they're on probation is guaranteed to put a bit of a damper on your day.

"I don't know about that, Tyler," one of them snickered, "I don't think the fags are too partial to cigarette smoke."

"Not this one," another piped in. "He's too busy saving his voice."

Tyler pretended to look thoughtful as he blew a couple of smoke rings in my direction. Not accustomed to the secondhand effects, I started hacking as a result of it. Oh, joy. I must have been making a fabulous impression on my new friends. I had hoped that a good one would decrease my chances of getting killed, but I had a feeling I wasn't going to be all that successful.

"Point taken," he said finally, shooting me a leery grin. "So. Evelyn. Bear with me for a second. Us here, we don't go offering our cigs to just anyone, you know what I mean? So how am I supposed to make sure that you're gonna remember this occasion?"

"I--I don't--" I stammered like the mastermind I was. Sweat was pooling from underneath my white and black polka dotted cap, which two of the guys proceeded to rip off of my head and use as an ashtray.

"It's got to be something real good," he continued, tapping his chin with the unlit end of his cigarette. "Something that allows me to…make my mark. Something that says Tyler was here. You following me, Nancy?"

Nancy. That was a good one. I wonder if mentioning this will delay my encounter with the afterlife, because I knew by that point that I was _so _going. I knew better than to hope I could put it off altogether--these guys had a grip on me like a crazed butcher on his meat. But God knows I wouldn't have minded a few extra seconds to enjoy the air, even if it wasn't so fresh at the moment.

"I--"

"We heard that part already." He shook his head in disgust, flicking an ash on to my black pants, and I gritted my teeth as the sting took hold. "I hope you were heading down to that pretty pink ride of yours to get a brain, because as far as I can tell, you didn't bring one here. But no matter. It's not like you're going to need it now, so we've got to get back to the original issue. Remind me what it was."

I didn't know he wanted a literal response until he jerked my arm so sharply, I'm surprised it didn't snap in half. "I said _remind _me, Evans."

Evans. I was actually being addressed by my real name. But that didn't really reassure me at all. There are just some people that you're better off if they don't know your name in any form or fashion. Hitler, for example. And Ted Bundy. And Tyler.

"Um, you…you wanted to…you…" _Cut out my tongue and barbecue it for dinner. _But I didn't say that. Tyler didn't need any ideas.

"Forget it." He waved at me to stop and took another drag. "It's gonna take longer for you to say it than for me to do it." He paused. "You know, I think I might need another light. I don't know. What do you think, Evans?"

With no warning, he jammed the ignited end of his cigarette square into my wrist.

Thus ending my attempt at a macho façade.

My scream was cut off by a hand covering practically my whole face. Another burst of pain to my scalp. Then the back of my neck.

I was panting, fighting, unable to stop screaming, only it was muffled now. Arms had me pinned down at all sides. There was a better chance of my parents pulling up in the shiny Chrysler they opted to drive when they weren't traveling and offering to take Shar and me to McDonalds right then than there was of me having a hope of getting away.

Tyler held up a hand after a few more jabs, and everyone let up on me.

"Okay, Evans," he said quietly. "You know what helps me remember important things? By seeing them first. You're not going to forget us now, but you're about to forget who you saw."

I didn't understand. I was flat on the ground by then, my face jerked up toward Tyler with the help of his gang.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "You don't have to do anything but help me put this out."

My heart skipped a beat when I realized where he was aiming his cigarette.

In about two seconds, my right eye was going to become Tyler's personal ashtray.


	5. Party Animal

_To my sister, Sharpay, I leave my share of our drama awards…Since she would claim they're rightfully hers anyway…_

_To Troy Bolton I leave my entire collection of hats, just for laughs…It might be worth the price I had to pay just to imagine how much bagging he's going to get…_

_To my beloved parents, I leave…um…_

Snap. I knew I should have taken more time to prepare.

Like from birth.

"You already dress like you're blind, queer," Tyler heckled. "This can only help."

My nails dug into my tightly clenched fists as Tyler concentrated, and then he just wasn't there anymore.

He had pitched forward, practically on top of me, spitting out cuss words in undeniable pain. The others were so taken aback they let me go straightaway and didn't react as I scrambled to escape them. I paused only long enough to take a closer look at the now bloody rock that had been chucked at the back of Tyler's head, detecting a swift movement out of the corner of my eye.

Movement in the form of a petite girl, dashing full speed back toward the school.

"Kelsi," I murmured before sprinting to my own car. I didn't think sticking around waiting for Tyler to gather his bearings was exactly the formula for a happy ending.

* * *

"_Ryannnnnnnnnnnnn!"_

I jumped aside as half the ceiling came crashing down.

Well, okay. No such thing actually happened; you probably knew that. But if my sister doesn't settle down, one of these days I'm sure it will.

I followed her roar like a prisoner being led to death row, which was basically what I'd be if I didn't respond in the next second and a half. Luckily I found her in the front hall, keys in hand and tapping her silver heels in fury on the marble floor.

"What are you thinking about, Ryan Evans?" she fumed, examining herself in the front hall mirror one final time. "A glacier went by in the time you spent upstairs. What do you think we're doing tonight, meeting the Pope?"

_No, just going to Troy Bolton's house. Which for you isn't all that different. _I'd actually been trying to figure out what to do with my burns, but I wasn't about to tell her that.

"We should have been there five minutes ago," she griped, rearranging the five hundred dollar Gucci barrette in her hair. "Now we can't get there early and make the party look good."

"No, but we can get there late and make a grand entrance," I pointed out.

Sharpay huffed a bit more, but I could tell I'd gotten her. It didn't keep her from grabbing the front of my black button up (I'd opted for that along with the only pair of jeans I own--not because I care what anyone thinks, but because I don't care what _I _think tonight) and yanking me practically nose to nose with her, however.

"How are my eyes?" she shrieked, shaking me harder than I would have liked. "Do they match?"

Considering she had spent the better part of an hour trying to perfect them, I know I have to tread carefully.

"Uh…yes?"

Thus initiating my three mile walk to Troy's. _Smooth move, Ryan._

I suppose I could just skip out, and I started considering it before I remember that facing Sharpay after I didn't return to the game was like David facing Goliath, although unlike David, I didn't exactly feel that I had the green light to knock out my sister. I don't know if things can go beyond that, but I'm not really in the market to find out.

I've got a few other things to worry about. Including how to get into Troy's house and track down Sharpay before someone tries to turn me into dog meat. The burns kill right now, regardless of the ointment I'd lathered them up with. Between you and me, I think my plate's full enough.

I hesitate as I approach Troy's block. The party looked to be in full swing, and there were at least twenty people hanging out on the front lawn, and probably three times that many still in the house, if not more. I seated myself on the nearest curb, trying to figure out what to do. I couldn't see who anybody was from the distance, but I didn't want to cause Troy any problems. He isn't my best friend, but he was decent and I owed him that.

As it turned out, I didn't really have to come up with a solution; Kelsi did it for me. There she was, approaching me cautiously.

"Hiya, Kelsi."

"Hey, Ryan. I didn't know for sure if it was you or not." She stood uncertainly in front of me. "What are you doing? Aren't you coming into the party?"

"Yeah…" I let my response slide off.

"It's okay. You're not missing much. Jason and Zeke are having a Cheeto throwing contest as we speak."

"Glad to hear you've landed the man of your dreams." Some silence. "You can sit down."

Kelsi took me up on my offer. "It's not like that," she said awkwardly. "I'm glad I'm with Jason, but I'll never have the points he does. One day he's going to start wondering."

"Don't worry about him."

"Yeah, I know I shouldn't."

I sighed. "Thanks for having my back today. I know it was you."

"You saw me?"

I nodded, and she blushed.

"I didn't want you to. Was it too late?"

"No." I didn't feel like telling her I'd nearly lost an eye. She didn't need to know about what else went down.

"I wasn't trying to follow you or anything," she mumbled. "I just saw you leave the gym, and I--"

"No, I know. It's okay."

More silence followed before she got to her feet. "We should go in."

"Yeah." I followed suit. "Sharpay's about ready to murder me in my sleep as it is. She'll do it for sure if I don't make an appearance."

I stuck my hands in my jeans pockets while we made our way to Troy's without saying anything further. By most we seemed as welcome as rot, but even before I reached the door I could see Troy's parents conversing with a variety of people through the living room windows and knew Gabriella had probably been right.

"Ryan! I didn't know if you were going to make it." Troy had pushed his way through the crowd and slapped me a high five. "It's cool that you're here. Why didn't you come with Sharpay?"

I tried to smile. "Unfortunate events."

"Ah." Troy knew what I was talking about. "Well, she's with a bunch of people over there, and I was getting Gabriella and me something to eat when you came in, so why don't you guys come hang with us for awhile. There's a ton of food we haven't managed to get rid of yet."

Kels and I followed Troy back to the food tables, where an expansive buffet was put out. I've seen some pretty impressive spreads in my time, and this one was up there.

"Please eat," Troy said, noticing my expression which must have matched what I was thinking. "My mom went a little crazy, as you can see. We're not going to have room to put any of this stuff away."

"How'd the game turn out?" I wanted to know as I snagged a plate and started filling it.

Troy grinned. "Forty eight to fifty two. Wildcats favor." No surprises there. "Weren't you there? I thought I saw you."

"For a little bit. I wasn't feeling so hot after awhile, though."

"Yeah." Troy looked like he sympathized with me. "It can get like that, with all the people and the noise. At least you recovered in time to get over here."

_Lucky for me. _But of course I didn't say that to Troy.

He took a quick pan of the packed out room. "Hey, did you guys see where Gabriella went to?"

Kelsi and I shook our heads.

"She's probably off with Taylor somewhere, but I should find her before she keels over from starvation. Her words, not mine." He gestured for us to come with him.

We finally spotted her on the front porch with Taylor and Chad, and a bunch of guys from various teams that caused my stomach to twist when I saw them. I recognized each of them as someone who had given me grief at one time or another, but this was Troy's party and not mine. I could deal, even if it was just for that night. And hopefully they could too.

Troy bowed down to Gabriella, plate of food in hand. "I've come bearing gifts for my queen," he said, and everyone groaned at the cheesiness of it. But at the same time, it made me smile. Troy takes good care of Gabriella, and we all know it.

"Your kindness is overwhelming, my gallant king," she responded, bowing back to him. "Now cut the crap and give me my sandwiches." We laughed, and I tried not to think about how good it felt to be part of a group like this. It wasn't real, but there was no harm in pretending. I let myself enjoy my roast beef and Swiss while both game and miscellaneous chatter went on around me.

"So you're friends with Troy?"

"Hmm?" I just about choked on my mouthful of pasta salad. Interaction with someone who isn't Troy or Gabriella or Chad or Taylor or Kelsi or maybe Jason or Zeke isn't on my list of expectations for this party. Swallowing quickly, I met eyes with the blond guy that was addressing me. "Me?"

"No, the twenty other guys named Ryan behind you," he said. "Yeah, you."

I paused before answering; I didn't recognize him at all.

"Um…well, I mean, I know him…you know…"

"Yeah, from that musical thing."

I nodded, realizing as I stared down at my empty plate that I can't even use food as an excuse not to engage in a conversation.

"Was it weird when they wiped you and Sharpay out like that?"

"What? You mean the musical?" He clearly wanted to keep talking.

"Yeah."

"Well, a little, I guess. I mean, it's been the first time in awhile that someone's come ahead of us, but I don't care so much. You know. I'm not going to pretend they didn't do better than we did."

"That's cool."

"So, um…" _Be cool, be cool. _"What's…what's your sport of choice?"

"Football, actually. But the season ended already, about a month ago."

"What do you do in the meantime?"

"Relax."

I chuckled with him, and he started to get to his feet.

"I'm in dire need for a beverage," he said. "I'll be back in a sec."

"That's a good idea," I said, preparing to follow him in. I'd forgotten to bring one out with me.

"No, it's cool." He indicated for me to stay put. "All they've got left is some of that punch stuff. That okay with you?"

"Sure."

He looked past me and smiled at Kelsi. "Any interest, Kelsi?"

Kelsi glanced up from her brownie, seemingly startled to hear her name. "What?"

"You want some punch?"

"Um…" Her eyes went from him back to her brownie. "Yeah, I could use some. Thanks."

"Yeah, thanks," I added. I leaned closer to Kelsi as he disappeared into the house. "Do you know who that is?"

"He's on the football team. Trevor, umm…Radowski? Radomski? Something like that. He and Jason hang out sometimes. He's not quarterback or anything, but I've seen him play a couple of times."

"Hmm. I don't know him."

"He's okay. He's, you know, one of--" She made a quick gesture to our company "--them."

Trevor returned then with our drinks, a fizzy red punch that I deduced upon tasting contained 7-Up, lemonade, and fruit juice. It was great, and the three of us returned at least three times for refills.

It wasn't until about halfway through my second cup that those leprechauns came back from vacation; they must not have had a very good time because their pounding became almost brutal. I tried to ignore it, working my way through another cup, but they remained firm and kicked their project up a notch.

I excused myself after too long and found the bathroom; by that point I could barely see. I have no idea what's going on. Something told me I was stupid for stuffing my face earlier, because I was about to see it all over again, and a minute or so later, I do. I clutched my stomach as I collapsed into the mess, too distressed by the pain to be very disgusted.

I was only vaguely aware of the door opening and someone else entering; through my haze I thought I tried to tell whoever it was to go away, but I don't know for sure. A weight of some sort stumbled over my legs and in turn fell on top of me. I didn't have the energy to see what or was, or try to shove it off. It doesn't matter. I guess when you feel that you're dying to the extent that I did, nothing much does.

I tried to turn over, and it was no small feat; a shower of hair got in my eyes, something fell and hit my temple. I tried to feel around for it, nearly forgetting how my hand worked, realizing what I had grasped was a small pair of glasses.

"Kelsi?" I managed, but I don't know if I ever got an answer or not; I blacked out before it came.


	6. Wide Awake

_Hey Everyone! I think this is a good time to give a huge shout out of thanks and appreciation to all my readers/reviewers! I'm grateful for your encouragement, so thank you for taking the time to read and give it. This is probably the hardest fic I have written to date, but you guys are making it totally worth it. This chapter is my personal favorite thus far, I don't know exactly why, just that I felt kinda powerful while I was writing it, if that makes any sense at all! So I hope you guys enjoy it too. Take Care and thanks again!_

* * *

"I still think we should call someone." 

"I am so dead, guys, I mean it. Like, literally six feet under."

"Shut up, Troy!"

"Come on, Kelsi, you need to drink just a little bit of this."

"Wait, guys, look. Look!"

"Ryan?"

_Oh. Man._

My eyes are killing me and I haven't even opened them yet.

Same with my head.

The leprechauns have finished their dwelling, which is now weighing down unpleasantly on my brain.

"Ryan?" There's a hand on my shoulder now, and I have to wince. Even the slightest touch feels like I've been knocked into next Tuesday.

"Hey, he's waking up. Ryan…"

"All _right _already!" The next thing I know, I'm being doused with ice water. My first coherent thought as my eyes shot open (bad move--suddenly the leprechaun Olympics are in full swing) is that if I'm in heaven, Sharpay is there with me and she looks furious. Either God told her she couldn't bring in her eight hundred dollar Louis Vuitton handbag or I'm still alive.

"Where's the truck?" I groaned, not yet daring to move.

"What truck?" Sharpay barked at me.

"The one that hit me."

"That wasn't a truck, dude," Chad said, appearing next to my sister, "but Sharpay looks about ready to throw you in front of one."

"Chad, it's not funny," Gabriella said quietly from somewhere nearby.

"And for once, Gabriella makes sense!" Shar snapped, punching the headboard a little too close to my head for comfort. The Olympics immediately intensified. "Ryan, you have no idea what you've done! What people are going to say! What our _parents_ are going to say if they find out about this!"

"Knock it off, Sharpay," Taylor told her crossly. "It's a lot worse than that and you know it."

"Can we backtrack for just a second?" I asked. I gathered the courage to turn my head first to the left, then to the right. "Why are we in Troy's bedroom? And why am I on Troy's bed?" That oughta give East High something to talk about.

"You've been in here the whole time," Troy said.

"No, I haven't." I try to shake my head, but it's too painful. "The last thing I remember is…" What _was _the last thing I remember? I can't…

"The bathroom. Kelsi!" I hoisted myself up on my elbows, ignoring the agony it took to do it, and found her sitting on the edge of the bed with Taylor's assistance. She didn't look any better than I felt. "Somebody needs to tell me what happened. Now." A long silence followed.

"You were drugged, Ryan," Gabriella said finally. "Both you and Kelsi. We can't tell what they used but it definitely wasn't just alcohol."

"We think someone was holding some kind of date rape drug," Chad added. "A bunch of guys admitted to being part of it. But even if they hadn't, we would have known. You guys look more wasted than the football team on initiation night."

"But we didn't…wait. Oh, no way. The punch?"

"Yeah," Troy said. "Radowski was playing you guys, bad. That's why he was with you the whole time. It was all planned."

"So they drugged us, dragged us from the bathroom to your bedroom, and…but why?"

"Don't you get it, man?" Chad exclaimed. "They want it to make it look like something happened that really didn't. You guys were out the whole time so nothing could have, but that doesn't change what everyone is going to spread all over the school."

"Practically the whole party was out in the hallway laughing about it and talking about what they were going to tell everyone who wasn't here," Taylor said bitterly. "That Straight jerk even locked the door from the inside and climbed out the window so that it looks like you guys came in here on your own. They want to take full claim to fame for 'making you a man,' and they're going to tell a lot of stories to try and prove it. Everything from that you and Kelsi were tired of getting dumped on to you snapping and raping her."

"No way," I repeated. I stared at Troy. "Where were your parents?"

"My mom went to a movie with my aunt and my dad went upstairs to listen to a game on the radio while he worked," Troy said. "He didn't hear a thing. I kicked the whole party out of here when I found out what happened, and we came in here to wait for you to wake up. We couldn't tell anyone--"

"I wanted to," Gabriella interjected, and for once, Troy ignored her.

"--so we were hoping you would come around soon. Kelsi woke up just before you did."

I looked in Kelsi's direction. "Kelsi. Are you okay?"

"I can't tell if I'm alive or dead," she groaned. I knew the feeling. Taylor tried to urge her to drink some more of the water she'd brought in for her.

"Sharpay?" I said uncertainly; she had been surprisingly quiet since her last outburst.

"How could you do it, Ryan?" she demanded, not looking at me. "What did you do to make them turn on you like that?"

My throat turned to cotton.

Kelsi slapped her. Clear across the face.

And I woke up. For the first time, somehow, I was wide awake.

"I'm _me, _Sharpay," I started out quietly. "That's what it is. I'm me, and they hate that. Everyone hates that. They hate that Evans fag in his little fairy hats and gay shirts, skipping around a stage singing queer songs. They can't have that at _their _school, so they're going to do everything to break him down. They're going to beat him up and laugh at him and humiliate him and leave him notes and steal his lunch and ruin his things and burn him and drug him and lock him in a room and make everyone believe he's hurting a girl who didn't do anything to deserve _anything!" _My voice is trembling at this point. "And after all that, they're going to beat him again, and maybe one day they'll even kill him all while making sure his holier-than-thou sister stays on her high throne because they love her and they want her to love them back, only she doesn't because she doesn't love anyone but herself and she doesn't even _care _if her brother has to pay a price for that, and I'm sick of pretending that everything is all right when nothing is and then having to look in your eyes and our parents' eyes at the end of the day and see everything I've done wrong because I've done _nothing _wrong but be me and that's not okay. Not to anybody, not even you."

The world ended then.

Okay, you caught me again. No, the world didn't end, but yes, it almost seemed as if it had. Everyone, and everything is still. No one's looking at me yet they're all looking at me at the same time. I hate my sister more than anything and I love her more than anything. I wish they had killed me and I'm so blessed to be alive.

However, Sharpay did complement Kelsi's declaration to our Physical Violence Appreciation Night by cracking me across the face, not merely the simple slap that Kelsi had delivered to her, but a real winner. Blood streamed from my nose and mouth and possibly my eyes as I flew from the bed and crashed straight into Troy's bureau, his night lamp plummeting to the floor and the bulb shattering.

"Troy?" his dad called from upstairs. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"Everything's cool, Dad," he called back. "We just went a little overboard with the, uh, roughhousing."

"Well, chill out."

"Chilling out loud and clear."

"Sorry, Troy," I said as I lay in the remains of what had been his lamp. "I'll get you a new one."

"I don't care about the lamp, Ryan." He had my sister in a death grip. "Are you okay?"

"I'm out some blood, but that's nothing new." I'd need a donor after too long anyway.

"Are you crazy?" Chad shouted angrily at her. "What is your problem, Sharpay?"

"My problem is that my brother's a liar." She turned her irate eyes on me. "You're lying your freaking head off right now. If any of that had gone on, you would have told me, but you know what it is? You can't stand that I've been keeping you around all these years as a favor to you."

"That's crap, Sharpay," Taylor said, and Shar glared at her.

"No, it isn't. At least some of what you said is true, Ryan. You might have been born into our family, even as my twin, but somewhere along the way, you fell off. I know it and Mother and Daddy know it. They're not going to say anything to you, but I will. You're jealous because you can't get there. You can't get to where the rest of us are. You try and you try and I even take you under my wing and you still can't get there. And you never will. So you come up with this…_story _to justify it, but I see right through you. And so will Mother and Daddy when they come home and I tell them what happened."

"But nothing did," Gabriella protested.

"We don't know that for sure, little miss Wildcat," Sharpay sneered at her. "Not after what he's just said. He's made himself so desperate to have some of the limelight that maybe he'll do just about anything for it, and maybe everyone else knows it, which could be why they did this."

"So you wouldn't buy into this even if we all say we've seen it happen?" Gabriella persisted.

"I think I'd buy into all of you trying to cover Ryan's butt," she responded coolly. "He doesn't have anything else going for him, after all. Do you hear that, Ryan? You've got nothing. You _are _nothing. You're an ornament to complete me, but I guess you don't think of it that way."

"Get out of my room, Sharpay," Troy ordered. "Better yet, get out of my house. You don't get to come around here and do that. "

I didn't think she was going to heed him, but after a minute or so, she grabbed her hand bag and left, but not without tossing me a look that clearly told me to go to hell.

"Ryan?" Gabriella said gently. "Don't worry about what she said. She's trying to get at you, that's all it is. It'll blow over."

The rest of the room didn't look so sure.

And to tell you the truth, I wasn't, either.


	7. Parental Discretion Not Advised

"What's the problem, Kelsi? You can give it away to that queer but the rest of us aren't on your approved list?"

"Yeah, do we have to start strutting around in striped hats and pink shirts before you'll give us a whirl too?"

_Oh God, no. Kelsi._

I raced in the direction of the jeering laughter and found Kelsi being held captive by two guys I recognized from the hockey team, and one from the wrestling team just outside the music room, where I knew she must have been heading to work on a few pieces for the upcoming choir concert. It was still early enough that no one was around to bust them, but no way was I going to just leave her like that, no matter what price I had to pay for it.

"Hey, lay off her," I ordered, grabbing one of the guys by the arm and nearly seeing my whole life flash before my eyes as I did.

"Right, since this is your job, huh, Evans?" he shot back, abandoning Kelsi to shove me. "Guess calling you Evelyn is out now since you've finally stuck it out, or should I say--" He leaned closer, giving me a wink "--in."

"Lay _off," _I repeated, refusing to be reeled in.

"Are you gentlemen having a problem?" a teacher whom I didn't recognize inquired in passing, pausing to hear the answer.

"No problem here, Mr. Grater," one of the other guys responded nonchalantly.

"Then why don't you all be on your way," he suggested, but we got the memo: Scatter or die.

So they were off, but not before sending us a clear unspoken message that they would catch up to us yet.

"Did they hurt you, Kelsi?" I asked once everyone had disappeared, thanking everything that's holy that it hadn't went any further than it did.

"No, I'm okay," she said unhappily. "Are you?"

"I'm fine." I followed her into the music room. "I guess word travels fast."

"We're in high school, Ryan." She seated herself at the piano and delved into a hauntingly lilting melody. "You know how it goes. Of course, video footage of the whole escapade on YouTube doesn't hurt either."

"You're not telling me someone actually had the bad taste to tape the whole thing and put it up for everyone to see?"

"Yup. Gabriella found it while she was surfing the Web this weekend and called me."

"Did you look at it?"

"Oh yeah." She paused in her playing long enough to glare at me sardonically. "And pretty sure I saved it under My Favorites, too."

"Okay, okay."

"Didn't Sharpay say anything to you? She must have heard about it."

"Sharpay isn't saying much of anything to me at the moment." Anything at all to be honest, and my parents are the same way. Shar went into the whole thing the minute they walked into the house on Sunday afternoon, and it must have been almost enough to send them back on to the helicopter and fly to Japan just to get away from it all. I'm not going to bore you with all the rancid details of how I repeatedly tried to protest my innocence with zero success and basically I'm what the cat dragged in at the Evans household right now. But I'm not going to get into that with Kelsi. She has enough troubles of her own right now.

"Well, it's a change," Kelsi remarked.

"Yeah, it is." But what I'm not going to tell her is that I honestly don't prefer it. I see something deep when I look at Sharpay now; though she pretty much refuses to make eye contact with me, there are a lot of things going around in them now. I know she's confused and hurt and angry, and other things I can't identify, and while my head tells me I should be pissed with her into tomorrow for making this about herself once again, my heart wins over every time. Nothing is ever going to change the fact that Shar is my twin sister and I don't want to see her hurt for anything, even if I forget that sometimes. "What did Jason say?"

"Jason," Kelsi sighed, "is rowing the same boat as Sharpay. He took off when he realized you and I were in Troy's room without even sticking around to get the real story. He won't return my calls."

"Someone will tell him," I insisted, "Troy or Chad. He won't keep freezing you out."

"I don't know about that. And no matter what Troy or Chad might say, who's to say Jason will believe them?"

"But…you're his girlfriend."

"So what? It still looks bad. Not to mention the razzing the other guys on the team are going to give him about this."

"I guess," I said, but somehow I can't bring myself to feel sorry for him. He's definitely getting the better end of the stick, and I'm furious that he refuses to talk to Kelsi.

"Go make your music somewhere else, love slaves!" a shout came from the hallway, but as it was starting to fill up, it's impossible to tell who it is. Not that it matters. It's probably going to be the first of numerous heartwarming commentaries that we're bound to receive.

"Lovely," Kelsi said, wrinkling her nose at me.

"Just watch out for yourself, Kelsi," I warned her. "Stick with Gabriella and Taylor. Safety in numbers and all that."

"Yeah, and you," she said. "Somehow I don't think this little event upped your status any."

"I never had one," I said. "I just shared with Sharpay."

* * *

But I guess I'm not sharing anything with her now. She's fully prepared to shaft me. I don't exist to her right now. Not when we pass each other in the hallway or I'm when I'm sitting behind her in English. Or when she's forgotten a pencil for like the billionth time, and turns to her right, demanding one from Oliver Elm, the four foot brain who skipped about six grades, instead of me. 

Cue tears. Not.

Kelsi and I don't even dare to venture into the cafeteria at lunchtime, so we seek refuge in the music room. She plays for me a few of her newer pieces, which are still in the revamp stage. I realize as I listen to the depth of her music and the obvious heart she's put into it that she must be terribly lonely.

So lonely that she had been willing to basically genuflect before Sharpay and me and try to make herself feel good about it.

And now this.

"Kelsi, I'm sorry," I blurted out.

She stopped mid-play. "For what?"

"For…I don't know…everything. And what happened…their beef is with me, not you, and now you're stuck in the middle."

Kelsi smiled sadly at me. "Ryan, if it wasn't you and me, it would have been me and someone else. Or you and someone else. I guess we just make it easy. What else are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know."

* * *

I wish I did. Especially when I get home that afternoon, forced to walk because my parents have taken away my car and Sharpay doesn't consider me worthy to ride in her front seat, and find my parents and sister gathered in the kitchen around Shar's bright pink laptop. 

Watching the YouTube footage.

Say adios to Ryan Evans, world. Because he's about five seconds away from getting it for good.

"Come over here, Ryan," my dad ordered evenly. Two points for him on account of the fact that he didn't start screaming his lungs out as soon as he saw me. But my parents really aren't yellers. Utter disappointment is more their forte, and I've given them more of that this past weekend alone than probably the whole rest of my life.

This is so not pretty.

_And the Academy Award for Best Film goes to the lunkheads at East High who were able to depict an innocent guy and an innocent girl getting into territory that they truly didn't even touch. Beautifully shot, sharply written. Look out, Hollywood!_

Seriously, if this thing had had a voiceover, that's exactly what it would have been saying.

These people can't be Kelsi and me.

We don't look drugged, but drunk at best. No one is going to have any sympathy for that. We're both sprawled out in our own puke, which one of our pals must have been kind enough to clean up--gotta send them a card--moved from the bathroom to Troy's bedroom at this point, eyes somewhat open but obviously not there. No one is in the background, nor making any noise, although you can hear some of the party sounds nearby.

My shirt is off.

Kelsi's hair is a mess, and her shirt is only halfway on.

I would not have doubted for one second that these people had done the deed, so to speak, and passed out immediately afterward.

What was anyone who hadn't been there supposed to think?

What were my parents supposed to think?

"I don't know what I'm supposed to think about this," my mom whispered, echoing my fears, her voice trembling. _Mom. Please don't cry._

"Mom…listen…" My voice came out in a whisper also; I found it couldn't go any higher. "I…I know it looks bad, but I…"

"It _is _bad, Ryan," my dad interjected gravely. "I don't even know if you realize. Your mother and I wouldn't have known anything about it if one of my associate's daughters hadn't ran across it and told him."

"Who was it?" I asked halfheartedly, knowing it didn't really make a difference.

"It doesn't matter," my dad confirmed, frowning at me. "That's not the question here. I hardly think he'll keep this episode to himself, and if he's not on his phone at this minute asking everyone if they've heard what that Evans boy got up to, then I don't know who owns that multi-million dollar corporation that keeps you in those expensive clothes and fancy hats you skip off to school in every morning, not to mention cars and college funds and food in this house and everything else you believe you have to your name right now. No high standing executive is going to in his right mind make a deal with a man whose family a bad taste in their mouth, and no deals means no money. You know, I can almost understand where you would fail to think about your mother and me in pulling a stunt like this--I won't deny that I was your age once. But to think that you didn't for a second take your sister into account and how this might affect her disgusts me." He ran a frustrated hand through his graying hair. "I don't have anything else to say to you, other than I hope you got a lot out of your fifteen minutes of fame, because anything after this is not going to be anything that you wanted."

_Gotcha, pal. And may I say, I'm completely bowled over by your parental love and affection for me right now. As much as I hate to see our family bonding time end, I know that when it does I'm heading straight for the Guinness World Book of Records and looking up "Most Concerned Father." It always warms my heart to see your dashing photo there._

"Ryan--"As if reading my thoughts, my mom sighed, taking a few moments to massage her temples. "I just don't understand. You obviously got caught up in something you had absolutely no business getting near the starting line of, and somehow you picked up the impression that it was okay. What was it? Are you feeling unhappy about something? Insecure?"

Well, Mom, hold up for a sec and let me dig out my list…I know it's in my "what's wrong with my life" file _somewhere._

"An inclination to set yourself out, although this is not the way to do it?" she went on. "You had to have been coming from somewhere, and I think we have a right to know exactly where."

My dad scoffed at her. "There's no mystery here," he said, "he's a boy and he's young. Get me the list of seventeen year olds who _haven't _screwed around with something like that, and I'll guarantee you that it's not very long. There's nothing wrong with him except a case of horrendously bad judgment. Isn't that right?"

"_Nothing's _right, Daddy," Sharpay cut in dramatically, slamming the laptop shut. "I've already told you. The only problem Ryan has is with _me." _She gazed at our parents with those all too familiar wide wounded eyes she uses whenever she's milking something. And I'm not talking about a bowl of Kix here, but all the cows in the barnyard. "He's just trying to get back at me, but I haven't done anything to him."

"I'm sure you haven't, Princess," my dad told her, then narrowed his eyes at me. "I can only guess exactly what's been going on, but you'd better cut out this game you're playing before you get yourself in more trouble than you're already in." He gestured to my mom, and they departed from the kitchen. When I looked at Sharpay, her "woe-is-me" expression had been replaced by a satisfied smirk.

"You know none of that is true," I said evenly, discarding my red cap and setting it on the counter top. On a Richter scale of one to five, my temper is slowly building to a four and a half, and Shar is likely to get it all the way to a five before too long. "Not what you said on Friday and not what you said just now."

She took her time in responding. "Do I know that?" she asked casually, examining her pinky nail.

"We're twins, Sharpay. We both know that."

"Well, maybe I don't," she snapped at me. "My _twin _would never put me in such a comprising position."

"How are you in a comprising position?"

She looked at me as if I had just suggested that she leave the house without doing her daily two hour makeup ritual. "Wake up call, Ryan! What makes you look bad makes me look bad too! Didn't you hear what Daddy said? You didn't even stop to consider what this would do to me, and even if it wasn't deliberate like you say, you should have never been so stupid as to put yourself at risk to have this happen! I don't know what you're planning on doing about it, if anything, but I don't care what I have to say and do to make sure this mess you've made is cleaned up. If it even can be by now."

"Even if it means selling me out in the process?"

"I've already done that, little brother. No matter how bad you think things were before, they're going to get worse. And when they do, you're going to see me somewhere in the background watching you get what you deserve, and I'm not going to do a thing about it."

"You're a jerk, Shar. I have a lot of other things I could call you at the moment, but you're not worth even that."

"You're not worth anything, and you'd better not forget it." Tucking her laptop defiantly under her arm, she stalked out of the kitchen just as my parents had a few minutes earlier.


	8. Bad Boy

"Well, you know how it goes, Tom…kids like to try their wings and they don't always think about the consequences…yes…well, I…yes, but I hardly think…all right…no, I quite understand…well, thank you for at least taking the matter into consideration, Tom, and hopefully it won't be too long before I hear from you…yes, goodbye."

I chew my lip, heart in my stomach. I wish I hadn't heard that. I linger at the doorway, wondering if it's in my best interest to go in and try to talk to my dad now, or just get lost. The latter option is much more appealing than the former, but I feel like I owe him something. Ever so slowly, I move into view, and when my dad looks up, it's as if he's never seen me before.

"Ryan," he said blankly. "What are you doing? Were you listening?"

"I…wasn't trying to, you know, I…"

He waved me away impatiently. "Well, then you can see that I'm very busy, so I think it would be best if you moved along."

"But…Dad, I just wanted…"

"Move _along, _please," he repeated warningly.

_All right, then. _He'd taken on the tone of voice that indicated to me that I had no choice.

"I'm sorry, okay?" I muttered as I did what I had been told.

Winter is approaching. Normally I wouldn't have noticed, as the weather doesn't fluctuate enough to make it seem so, but this year is different. This year all the coldness from this house and from school and from the people in both places more than make up for anything the weather might have done if we didn't live in Albuquerque.

So, it's been three weeks since the party incident. Three long weeks. And if I thought life as it was couldn't get any lonelier, well, I had another thing coming. Troy, Gabriella, Chad, Taylor--they're cool, don't get me wrong, but they're torn between supporting me and still maintaining a stand at East High. I'm not going to crap on them for wanting that. Bottom line is, no one seems to know what to make of me anymore, rather they prefer to take their cues from Sharpay. And since she really isn't remotely talking to me, it's almost like the whole school has followed suit, even though there's been no shortage in the whispers and snickers and hisses whenever I'm in the general vicinity.

And things in the fabulous kingdom of Evans? I don't have much to say about it, other than a pedophile could walk in and be more welcome than me. I honestly thought Dad was just spitting words about losing clientele and other such things, but it turns out the world really _is _that pathetic and shallow. Heh. Who knew.

I think my mom tried to give me the benefit of a doubt for awhile, but it didn't last too long; Sharpay has her, as well as my dad, way too snowed. I know they love us both, that's totally not the issue here, but let's face the facts--an incredibly incriminating video and a determined sister are a bad combination.

At least there's one combination that's working out all right, and that's Kelsi and me. We've really had to pull together these past few weeks, especially since Jason has decided she's really not worth his time right now. Freaking loser. You'd think his concerns would go past "look alive, Cross, someone else is tuning up your slut!" and "Can I get a turn at the piano too?" But it pretty much ends there, I guess. Gotta hand it to her--between Jason and the constant ridiculing she's forced to endure, way more than I ever had to, it seems, she seems to be taking the whole thing in stride. Gabriella and Taylor are really hanging in there with her, and I'd like to say I am too, but I don't know. So I suppose if you have even one friend to help you wade through this crazy thing we call life, then you're not doing too badly for yourself.

Most of the time, it's just Kels and me, and that's okay. She listens to my thoughts and fears about trying to live up to Evans standards and trying to survive at East High, and I listen to her fears about not meeting her parents' high expectations revolving around Kelsi the Musical Prodigy. They have their sights set way up there and at one time she did too, but I guess they kind of squeezed that out of her when they realized she didn't possess a mere recreational talent, but one that could actually get her somewhere. And now Kelsi's not so sure she wants to get to wherever that is.

"Sometimes," she confessed to me one day over lunch, "I don't know who I am outside of that 'freaky piano girl.'"

"Yeah," I said, "and sometimes I don't know who I am outside of that 'creepy drama queer.'"

She munched on an apple slice as she thought it over. "I wonder why people won't just let us figure it out."

I shrugged. "It doesn't have anything to do with other people. We have to figure it out with or without them." I blushed as I said this, knowing full well that I wasn't exactly the top candidate of the "practice what you preach" method, but Kelsi didn't call me on it.

"Why don't you just _feed _her the appetizer and go straight to the entrée?"

My blond hair is ruffled just a _tad _too roughly for my taste as a few guys I don't know go by us.

"If you want a tip," he said, leaning closer to me, "I hear the science lab's free."

Kelsi and I stared after them as they ran down to the school grounds, then smiled at each other. We'd opted for taking our lunch out to the school steps that day, as the jokes had gotten so repetitive by this point that they didn't bother us in the least anymore.

"You'd think they'd get some new material," she said, helping herself to one of the chocolate chip peanut butter cookies from my tray.

"No sense in wasting what little brain cells they already have," I said, slapping her hand away playfully.

"Oh, come on," she protested, "you've already had, like, six."

"And I'm going for number seven," I said firmly, but I was grinning. "So get off."

Kelsi sighed a bit, though I could see her eyes twinkling. "I really want that cookie," she said, feigning sadness. "There's starving children in China who would kill to have it, you know."

"You're not a starving child in China," I said, taking a huge exaggerated bite.

"I know, but I'm just saying that there are."

"So take a picture of me eating this cookie and send it to them."

"Ryan Evans, you are so mean," she declared. "Now give me that cookie!" I didn't have a chance to react before she was tackling me in mad pursuit for the remainder of my cookie.

"Get your own!"

"Don't be such a pig!" Heaven help the guy who says no to Kelsi, because she sure can hit.

"Working on a tag scene?"

We paused in our battle as my sister went by us, on her own for once.

"I'm sure it will be very well received on Youtube, anyway," she said in mock sweetness. I braced myself for additional stinging remarks, but they didn't come. Shar simply shoved her way between us and joined the crowd on the school grounds.

"Someone hasn't been hugged enough," Kelsi remarked, watching her.

"Someone's too good for that," I said, forgetting momentarily that my parents aren't big huggers anyway, then frowned. "Hey, where's my cookie?" When I looked back at her, her expression was frozen, her mouth clearly full.

"Oh no, you didn't," I said, and she swallowed.

"Okay, you caught me." She smiled sheepishly. "The truth is, there's some kind of fatal toxin going around in chocolate chip peanut butter cookies and I wanted to make sure if this was one of them that'd I'd go down first. You know?"

"I know that you owe me a cookie," I said, grabbing her, and she giggled helplessly as she tried to fight me off. This time, we didn't care who was watching.

* * *

I spent an unusually carefree afternoon writing about the day's earlier events in my journal. As I flip through the last couple of pages, I notice how much of it seems much cheerier than previous entries, mostly accounts of what Kelsi and I are up to, what we're saying and doing. She's become a shining star in my dark sky, and somehow the bright light just she emits seems enough to illuminate every black corner. As I scribble off my thoughts, it amazes me how much I've come to care for her. Not really in a romantic sense, mind you, as much as a good friend, or in some respect, as a brother. It kills me to know that she's getting dragged through the pile of mud that was meant just for me, but man, is she ever a trouper. And just when she has every right to rip me a new fedora, so to speak. 

I'm smiling as I write, comfortable in my refuge at the pool. I gently swing my feet back at forth, enjoying the feel of the cool, invigorating water as I have many times before; it seems as if my whole soul is being cleansed, and my pen moves freely upon my paper. That's why interruptions are rarely welcome when I'm here. Suddenly the world can touch me again.

"Ryan."

I close my eyes. I know it's my mom, and I don't expect her. She and Dad were supposed to be in New York today. We haven't talked nearly the whole time since the kitchen blowup. I wonder what she could possibly want now. I wait for her to go on, not looking at her.

"Ryan, could you come out of there. Please." It wasn't a question, but a demand, quietly disguised.

I swung my legs out of the pool and dried them before finally getting to my feet and following her without a word. The option of not doing as she asked didn't really occur to me. Sharpay glosses over it as smoothly as Tara Lipinski on ice, but I'm somewhat of a different sort. Somehow, after everything that's gone on, I still respect my parents.

We end up in my dad's home office, where he's just disconnecting a call through his cell phone. He nods at me to sit down in one of the chairs across from his desk, and my mom goes around to stand next to him.

"I thought you were in New York," I said, not meeting their eyes.

They exchanged a glance, and then my dad nodded.

"Well, we were," he said, "just for this morning. But…"

I notice something different in his tone, and I look up.

"Ryan, I'm sure it will come as no surprise that there have been some…problems around here lately," he continued. "My work is suffering, and…well. I hardly need to go into the details, do I? You understand."

"Yes, sir," I mumbled.

"Now, I'm willing to be fair to you. I recognize that this is most likely an isolated incident, because you don't make a habit of giving us trouble, so I will acknowledge that. Still…I can't deny that a can of worms has not been opened because of this, and now your mother and I are expected to handle it appropriately."

I swallowed a bit, pretty sure I'm not going to like whatever I'm about to hear. "What does that mean?" I asked quietly.

"It means that…" He reached for my mom's hand. "There's a place, in Maine…it's very quiet, not many people…"

"Maine?" It may as well be Saturn, for all it means to me.

"Yes. It's for kids your age who…well, who have…problems, and need some time to…reconnect, and…"

I grip the arms on the chair in which I'm sitting, trying not to lose it too fast. "Like…like a juvenile detention center…or something?" Trust me, I'm _really _trying to hold on here.

"No, no," my mom spoke up in what I'm sure she thinks is a reassuring manner. "That's not what they call it. That's not what it is. The boys there come from…all sorts of things, Ryan, not just ones who have been in trouble…it's small and private, and it might give you some time to sort things out. Your father and I have watched you struggle, and we feel that you…" She trailed off, apparently not knowing how to finish.

"Not forever," my dad said quickly, "and maybe not even for very long. But we don't know what else to do, and to keep you here in the present climate isn't really…it's not an option right now."

"You mean it's not an option because it makes you look bad," I stated.

My parents closed their eyes briefly.

"Please don't look at it like that," my mom said, basically confirming what I'd said. "We just need some time…all of us…your dad, me, your sister, but especially you…for things to settle down a bit. When they do that, you can have a fresh start."

"This is not a punishment for you," my dad added. "It's an opportunity. Try to go about it that way."

_Yeah, yeah. _It was all "parent speak" for one thing: retribution. It doesn't matter how my parents choose to slice it. I know what this is all about.

"What about Sharpay?" I wanted to know.

My dad raised his eyebrows. "What about her? She's not going anywhere."

Yeah, I didn't think so. She's going to stay on her high horse, waltzing through the hallways of East High every day, crying out pathetically about her "troubled" brother who had to be sent away and the family that is in _utter despair _over it, topping off the day by getting massages by the pool while she reflects, pleased at her day's work. How grand.

"It sounds like you've already decided," I dared to say.

My dad became very interested in his collection of pens all of a sudden.

"Ryan," he said calmly, "can you think of any better alternatives?"

"But I keep telling you that I didn't do this on purpose. Anyone watching the video can see it was set up. I don't get why you don't believe me."

My parents sighed. I got the gist. Whether they believed me or not wasn't the deal, it was what other people believed. They were never going to say that, but I knew it for sure. Hmm, lovely.

"That doesn't matter anymore," my mom said as a way to bypass my question. "What does is that you get some time to…to be away from all this, and…"

_And yeah. Get the stain out of the Evans carpet. Gotcha._

"Glorious," I chirped. "So when does this charming event take place? Let's see, it's Thursday now, so…five minutes?"

I'm getting rather talented at making my parents sigh.

"Firstly, this is difficult on everyone," my dad told me. "Don't push it. Second, we'll fly there out there Monday morning. We thought you could use the weekend to get some things together and get used to the idea."

As if he's doing me this huge favor.

"All right. Will that be all?"

They exchanged another glance.

"That's all for now, yes," my dad said, and I stood to go.

"Thank you for your time, parents," I said, giving them a slight bow, then left the office, leaving them to grieve about their wayward son. It's not until I'm halfway up the stairs to my room that I remember I've left my journal at the pool. I contemplate just leaving it there until later, knowing the chances of anyone reading it is slim, but I have a feeling I'm going to be writing furiously in it after too long, so I decide to make the trip. I hum a few bars of the "Chariots of Fire" theme to keep myself occupied, stopping when I reach the pool and notice my journal is not the way I left it. I had shoved it aside, near one of the sun chairs once my mom had summoned, and I know it had been face down. Now it's face up, and at an angle, as if someone dropped it in a hurry.

I pick it up warily, staring at it, then a scent comes to me. It's familiar. It's…I bring the journal closer to my nose and sniff. Vanilla lavender. Shar's favorite hand lotion. I look up and nobody's in sight, but I know she's been out here.

Reading my journal.

Well.

Things are about to get fun.


	9. Easier Said Than Done

_Okay people, so before you get into this latest chappy, i thought i'd let you all know how pathetic i am by announcing that when i was at wal-mart tonight i found a rack carrying 3 different kinds of HSM t-shirts and i bought one of each. Yay me! I need a life._

* * *

"But that's only three days away!" 

"I know."

"I still don't get why they're doing this." Kelsi shook her head in disgust. "You didn't even do anything. It's like they care more about what other people think than they do about their own son."

"They do care." Part of me felt like I still needed to defend them. "And they weren't exactly doing the Mexican Hat Dance at the prospect of sending me off. But…"

But it still bit.

I'd hunted Kelsi down early Friday morning and now we were sharing muffins and juice in the music room. Neither of us had an enormous appetite at the moment, but we ate anyway.

"What did Sharpay say?"

"She didn't say anything." She's still not talking to me, and we both know she got into my journal the afternoon before. Surprisingly, I'm not all that angry about it, more curious over what she must have thought, but she hasn't offered any input.

Kelsi sighed. "I'm no expert on this, Ryan, but you need to talk to her. No matter how…not great things are right now. Who knows how long you'll be gone, and she's still your sister."

"Yeah. I know. I've been thinking the same thing." Boy, had I ever. I'd lain awake for almost half the night wondering how I could get her into even a somewhat civil conversation. To know that you're going off to the great unknown while your sister seems to have absolutely no qualms about feeding your guts to the fishes in the present situation makes the whole thing much more dismal, and regardless of everything she's pulled, I'm really not chomping at the bit to end on a bad note with her. And I know somewhere in that stone cold tomb of a heart, she has to feel the same, at least a little bit. But with Sharpay, you've got to kind of work into things. I can count on one hand the occasions on which she's admitted to being wrong, and those are usually when she finds her status backing her into a corner and she has no other choice if she wants to stay at the top of it.

So either way, the outcome doesn't look all that brilliant, but I love her. Enough to take whatever she dishes out at me in the process. I don't know if Kelsi will understand that, though, so I don't say anything to her.

"We'll see how it goes," I said instead. "So what exciting things are you up to this weekend while I'm packing my hat collection in about twenty different boxes?"

Kelsi giggled. "I have a recital next weekend so that means I'm doing piano time from tomorrow until pigs fly…or until the recital. Whichever comes first. Tonight my parents are going to some company party of my dad's, though, so I'm off the hook."

"Well, I'm sick of sitting in my room and thinking about the sins of our fathers, so how about we get together? You want to?"

Kelsi's eyes lit up. "I'd be up for that. And it's a really good night for it, since the wrestling team's kicking off their season tonight."

"So?"

"So everybody's going to the initiation." She bit her lip. "Aren't you grounded or something?"

"Nah. My parents locked my car up, but that's about it. Besides, they're flying to Chicago this morning, and they won't be home until tomorrow night."

"Oh, well, that's not a problem. I still have my car, so I can come get you. What do you want to do?"

"Something fun."

She laughed. "I figured as much. So I'll just come get you at about six and we'll figure it out, okay?"

I nodded, looking forward to the prospect of hanging out with the one person who doesn't want anything from me except for me to be _me. _It turns out to be enough to carry me through the day, and nothing touches me. Every time I pass Kelsi in the halls, we exchange shrewd smiles, as if we know something the rest of the world doesn't. It's not likely that we'll do anything more than maybe eat and go to a movie, but that's enough to make my whole week, or, at the rate my life is going, my whole existence.

I guess I got too caught up in thinking about it, because as the final bell rang for the day, I was totally unprepared to smack point blank into someone as I hurried around a corner to the front doors.

"Oh, man! I'm sorr-" The word died on my lips as I met eyes with Sharpay.

"Walk much?" she snipped at me.

"I'm sorry."

I fully expect her to barrel past me without another thought, but she doesn't seem to be in a hurry. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Stand there and look at her? Tip my green and black striped hat and continue on my way? Shove her against the wall and run?

She shrugged nonchalantly at my apology, and considering I'd been expecting a whack to the head with a sledgehammer or to find myself being catapulted to the moon, I'm more than happy to take the shrug. She doesn't say anything beyond it.

_Ohhhhhh, so you want to play _this _game. Well, too bad. 'Cause I don't._

"Okay, well." I decided on the tip-my-hat option after all, and moved past her. "See ya."

I'm getting her. I know it. Okay, okay, I know I just said I didn't want to play, but I meant _this _game. I didn't say anything about any other, and I have a few of them up my own sleeve. Things move at the pace of a snail when you're dealing with someone like Sharpay, but as I've had the supreme benefit of seventeen years worth of experience, I don't think a thing of it.

"Hey, Ryan! Do you want a ride?"

At least fifty heads turned as Kelsi called for me, no doubt all of them trying to figure out the implications of the word "ride." I have to roll my eyes at the stupidity of it. They say that we are the generation of tomorrow, so I certainly hope "they" were on acid when they said that.

"No, thanks," I called back to my only ally, whose car was idling at the curb. "I'll just see you in a couple of hours, okay?"

"Okay!" Off she goes, and I chuckle as she turns the corner. Kelsi, Kelsi, Kelsi.

I ignore the voices that lower significantly in volume as I pass, the scoffs and the snickers. None of it matters to me, but before I reach the curb, my twin sense kicks in. Darn it, she's behind me. I can't help but glance over my shoulder, to see her watching me from the steps. I'm too far away to make out any kind of expression, but I know she's heard the exchange between Kelsi and I. I figure what they hey, and give her a wave. I think she starts to wave back, but doesn't in the end. Whatever.

Troy and Gabriella caught up to me after a few blocks, in that junker of a truck Troy fixed up with his dad over the summer.

"Hey, Ryan! Want to hop in the back?" Troy called out the open window.

"No thanks, I'm cool. What are you guys heading off to do?"

"We're just going to kill time before the initiation thing tonight. Are you coming?"

"Was I born yesterday?"

"Well, in that hat," Gabriella began, but ducked when I tossed a wad of paper through her window.

"Get your own woman, Evans!" Troy yelled playfully, hurling an empty pop can back at me.

"There's a fine for littering, Bolton," I teased him.

"Yeah, there's also a fine for your face. Well, look, do you want to come hang with us before the initiation? We're probably just going to get some coffee."

I shifted my school bag from one shoulder to the other. "Thanks, but I'm going to chill out before I hang out with Kelsi later."

"You're hanging out with Kelsi later? What are you guys doing?" Gabriella wanted to know.

"I don't know yet. We'll decide when she picks me up."

Troy and Gabriella looked at each other, then back at me.

"You guys want to meet us for a movie after the initiation?" Troy asked. "We don't want to stay too long anyway--it's kinda lame. Everyone just wants to see what the big shots are going to have the newcomers do, so it's not a big deal. We'll just duck out early. Maybe Chad and Taylor want to come too."

I shrugged, not against the idea. "I don't know. I'll have to see what Kelsi wants to do and we'll call you. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Well, we should jet, but give us a shout later."

"See you, Ryan," Gabriella said before Troy pulled away.

I'm starting to hope Kels goes for the movie idea. It'll be my last one in awhile, and it might be cool to hang out with Troy and Gabriella outside of school and messed up parties. I'd already extracted a promise from Kelsi that she wouldn't tell anyone about my big adventure, at least not until I'm gone, but now I'm starting to feel bummed out about it. Let's face it, my parents are shooting me down the craphole and no one has my back. No one, that is, other than Kelsi, but…you get to a point where you just really, really, really want to know that people are standing in line for you. Maybe I ought to rethink this whole MIA thing.

Shar's car is nowhere to be seen when I get home. I can only assume that she as well is gearing up for that initiation thing, sounds like it's the place to be tonight. Unless you're me. Or Kelsi. Or possibly Oliver Elm. But no matter. I've got better things to think about. Kelsi's picking me up in two hours, and on the off chance I can coerce her into a movie, I needed to find out what's playing.

* * *

By five to six, I'm showered and waiting for Kelsi to pull up to the gate, working my way through a package of honey roasted peanuts. I figure we'll be eating later, but it doesn't hurt to cleanse the palate. 

Or it wouldn't have if six o'clock hadn't come and gone, and no Kelsi.

Six fifteen. She hasn't come and she hasn't called. Weird. That's totally not like her--she's usually anal about being on time for things, and I've known the girl since kindergarten. I like to think I've got a pretty good feel on her punctuality habits. I'll give her another five minutes before actually calling her. Could be she's just running late, and she doesn't exactly live next door.

Six twenty. Okay. I give. I tap out her number on my cell, but it goes straight to voice mail. Her phone isn't even on.

Huh. I'm trying to sort out my other alternatives here. Well, I know that Troy and Gabriella are well on their way to the initiation thing, if they're not there already, but we were supposed to call them after too long anyway. Maybe Gabriella's heard from her. But there's no answer on Gabriella's phone. Taylor? Possibly? Eh. No such luck. Although I bet dollars to donuts she's at the initiation too, most likely with Chad, there's no answer from her either.

I remember that Kelsi's parents are out, but if she's still at the house, she'll pick up. I have to look up her home number though, since I never use it.

Zilch.

So I'm at the point where I have to ask the housekeeper if any calls have come to the house line for me. A pretty useless line to have in my opinion, since none of us ever use it, but I'm not the one who decided to have it put in. The answer is negative, making the line, to me, even more useless.

I glance at the ancient grandfather clock in the front hall--it's going on six thirty. Now, I don't really possess the tendency to go postal, but I don't think anyone would blame me at that point for being slightly concerned. In maybe the one time Kelsi failed to show up to an accompaniment session with Shar and me, she called about six times on her way there, apologizing profusely. It took her days to get past it before Shar finally told her to put a cork in it. A stickler for being prompt and a subterranean fear of Sharpay Evans having you stoned and left out on her front porch to hang coats on does weird things to a person.

I hit her number for a second time as I go outside the gate to see if there's a possibility that she missed the massive path to our driveway and get that chirpy little voicemail again. Now I'm out of options.

Almost as soon as I disconnect, however, my "Tradition" ringtone from _Fiddler on the Roof _breaks the silence. I'm assuming it's Kelsi, so I don't even check before I answer.

"Hey, Kelsi? Hey, where are you? It's almost six thir--"

"Ryan!" a panic stricken voice cut me off. "No--no, it's not Kelsi, she--I--oh my God, Ryan, they--"

"Gabriella?" I've never heard her so worked up. "What is it? Where are you?"

"Ryan, I--please, are you at home?" She sounds as if she's running full speed.

"Gabriella, what--?"

"_Tell me if you're at home!" _she screamed, and I start shaking at her tone. For Gabriella to go to the lengths of extreme decibels, something has to be terribly wrong.

"Yeah, Kelsi hasn't picked me up yet, but Gabriella--"

"Just stay there, Ryan," she ordered, close to tears now. "Troy and I are coming over there, just--"

She's cut off, her line is dead.

And I'm cut off too, as I'm thrown into a painful darkness.


	10. Friday Night Fright

It's the sobbing that jerks me from my state of unconsciousness.

_Someone's making my sister cry._

"Shar?" I mumbled groggily. I shift a little bit, and try to open my eyes, momentarily panicking when I realize that I've gone blind. It takes another few moments to register the fact that a heavy cloth over my eyes is what's causing my inability to see.

_Where am I?_

The gentle breeze rushing past my cheek and the sound of a cricket band in the distance indicates to me that I'm outside, but why? I don't have time for this. Kelsi's going to be here any minute.

Isn't she?

"Hey there, Slick. You among the land of the living?" I don't recognize the voice that I'm assuming is addressing me, and I'm too out of sorts to answer. I gasp in pain as a foot rams full force into my side. My sister, I _know _it's my sister, screams, followed by the sound of a hand connecting with flesh.

"Get him up," another voice ordered and suddenly I'm being pulled up from all sides. I think my head is bleeding, but I can't reach up and check because my hands are tightly bound behind my back.

_Oh my God, what is this?_

"We were worried about you, Evans, when you didn't show up," someone snickered, "so we thought we would give you a ride out." There's laughter following his comment, and whispers. It's as if there's a whole crowd of people standing in front of me.

A beat later, the cloth on my eyes falls away and I see that there is indeed a crowd of people before me; make that what seems like the entire student body of East High. Some are laughing, some look mildly amused, others look terrified. I bite back a scream when a ghoulish face appears in front of me. Then another one. And another. Behind me, there are several more. I calm down when I realize these are just airheads in Grim Reaper masks. I squint as smoke tries to make its way into my eyes, the small bonfire the only light in these dark…woods?

For whatever the reason, I fight the terrible urge to giggle. _Okay, Evans. What movie did you fall asleep to and are dreaming you're in now?_ Crazy.

But then I look out at the throng again. I see my sister, who's being held back by some jerk who's about three times her size and instinctively I attempt to dash forward with the intent of freeing her, accomplishing nothing but pitching headfirst back on to the ground. More laughter this time. Before I'd gone down, I'd seen Gabriella, crying as well, blood trickling down the side of her face, and Troy clutching her to him, as if protecting her from everything that's happening here. Chad and Taylor don't look much better, and…Kelsi.

Kelsi?

Where is she?

_Where is she?_

I get yanked back up by the back of my shirt.

"What's going on?" I whispered.

"Here's the deal," one of the more heavyset "Grim Reapers" said, his voice muffled by the mask. "The boys and I are just a _wee _bit tired of the fact that it's always your turn, you know? One little spot on YouTube and bam. Suddenly Evans is getting a whole lot of credit for 'sticking it to the man'--er, _wo_man. It gets a bit old after awhile. So what are we supposed to do about it?"

"I--I don't--" I stammered.

"That's fine, because we figured it out for you. Now, we're going to untie your hands and I wouldn't get any brilliant ideas in my head about running if I were you, because I guarantee there's no way out of here until we decide there is. For anybody."

My hands are freed in the next second, and I heed to the instructions. I'm not going anywhere at this point.

"Okay, Evans, I'm going to tell you a story," he continued, casually draping an arm around my shoulder. "You like stories, right? Well, this is a good one. So one Miss Kelsi Nielsen was prepared to depart from her household at around seventeen hundred hours--that's six o'clock in military terms--but owing to circumstances beyond her control, she never made it. Now--"

"What did you do to her?" My voice is surprisingly steady and calm, not at all matching what I feel on the inside.

"Oh, don't worry," he assured me smoothly, but I know it's an empty promise. "We haven't done anything--yet."

_And I haven't clawed your eyes out and made you eat them for dinner--yet._

"The question of whether we will or not is up to you. The good news is, she's somewhere in the woods--heavily guarded, of course--and you have exactly one hour to find her. See, we're setting this timer just for the occasion." He forced my head in the direction of the timer. "There's clues you have to watch out for so you know you're going in the right direction, but we've also set up a few obstacles you have to get past on your way there. We also decided to allow you the use of a flashlight to work to your advantage." He handed it to me. "One hour," he repeated.

"What happens if I don't find her before that?"

"Let's just say the rest of us are going to get a fair shake," he said. "Pending on whether Kelsi chooses to cooperate. If not, she might just have…oh, let's call it…an accident. You guys are determining what happens here. Don't do anything stupid."

"Don't forget the bonus prize," another one of the "Grim Reapers" spoke up.

"Oh yes, there's a bonus here," he told me. "It kinda worked itself in later. See, we counted on your twin taking a leaf from our book, but it turns out she's not so happy about this little turn of events. I don't know about you, but that doesn't work out so well for us, considering she could put the whole operation at risk. So we decided our best bet was to throw her in the game." He nodded toward my sister, who couldn't seem to stop crying. "If you're not back here with Kelsi within the set time limit, she's not the only one who's going down tonight. You feel me?"

My throat is too dry to answer at this point. How did I get into this? What am I supposed to do now? Why does no one have any second thoughts about treating me like a bag of dog crap set on fire and left by their front door?

"Setting the timer, Evans," he warned.

And, oh God, why do other people have to pay on account of me?

"_GO!"_

Commotion erupted in the crowd then. I was being forced in the direction of the woods by what seemed like hundred of bodies, amidst screams, some amused, some terrified, boos, laughter, protests. I can hear my sister screaming for me, but I've lost sight of her by then. Some kind of force came out of the crowd and slammed against me.

And now I'm alone in the woods.

Great.

_Blair Witch _time.

This sucks.


	11. Over the River and Through the Woods

If the stakes weren't so high, I might have enjoyed this. I mean, the wrestling team obviously went out of their way to make this initiation thing as lame as possible, with a side order of stupid. I honestly didn't know if this is intentional or if this is all their brain capacity will allow of them. My vote's on the latter.

Now, I really don't believe in bad karma, but I'm tempted to change that. Especially in light of the fact that just as I'm amusing myself with thoughts of Christopher Hertz flipping burgers at McDonalds in forty years, I'm tackled from above.

Yes, above. Someone's been sitting in a tree for quite awhile, waiting for me to pass by. And this guy has the freakiest looking clown mask you could everhope _not _to see. I mean it. I will not sleep for a week based on how messed up this thing is. And as if one isn't bad enough, another figure emerges from what seems like nowhere, with an identical mask. Wow. Now I'm starting to see an advantage to being shipped off to Maine; wherever it is I'm going is sure to have therapy.

They wasted no time.

"A man and his wife went on vacation. Two months later, the man called the police to report the location of a body near the place where he had been on holiday. The police thanked the man and then asked why it had taken him two months to report the body. What was the reason?"

I just about burst out laughing. Where I've been expecting my obstacles to come more in the form of trying to get past people with axes or being locked in a cage to wrestle with a gorilla, they give me a _riddle? _I'm thinking about how absurd the whole concept is before I realize that I blow at stuff like this. At least once a year in any given English class, we're forced to work out these things for an extra couple of points in the grade book, but nothing's ever been marked down next to the name Ryan Evans, unless it's one of those quick scribbly notes that reminds the faculty that he's a special case or something. Surprisingly, Sharpay is pretty sharp when it comes to them, as long as she doesn't get bored within the first few minutes; I think it comes from the insanity she would experience if she didn't know the answer. Bad break for me. Shar's not here. And we're not talking about losing a couple of miniscule points here, but a whole lot more than that. So I've got to take a crack at it.

"You can ask six questions that you think will help you solve it," the psychotic Bozo from the tree told me, "and you have three minutes. If you don't get it right, we'll send you back to the starting line."

_The starting line? _Shaft! And I've been in this funhouse for ten minutes already. I've only got fifty more to keep Kelsi and Sharpay from being Monday's mystery meat.

"Can you say it again?"

I didn't expect him to, but he did.

"Okay, um…did the man and his wife have something to do with the murder of the body they found?"

"No."

"Did they know who did?"

"No."

"How did they find the body?"

"They didn't."

"They didn't find the body, but they saw it somehow?"

"Yes."

I bit my lip. I only had two questions left, so I had to really think about this. So the man and his wife hadn't actually come across the body, but--wait. Vacation. Two months.

"If they were on vacation, they must have taken pictures. Did they?"

"Yes."

"Did they see the body in a photograph and not report it sooner, because…because they didn't develop the pictures until two months later?" My parents are constantly guilty of this particular shortcoming.

They didn't respond this time, but moved aside to let me pass. I took off, giddy with my triumph, but it quickly occurs to me how easy this was. Instantly my guard goes back up. This is only the beginning.

So, okay. You know how people like to say "this is only the beginning" and make it sound all ominous and whatnot, and it really turns out not to be at all? Well, tonight it's just the opposite. I can actually say it without sounding like I come off of some cheesy B rated drama film. I mean, make no mistake, it's not an opportunity you want very often, but…

I digress.

I've come to a small clearing, with paths going off in all four directions, and hope that these jerks at least have the courtesy to leave me a clue. I aim the flashlight that has been bestowed upon me toward the surrounding trees.

_One of these trees is not like the other…_

Of course, this particular line prompts me to whistle the remainder of the song, which I take a few moments to do before examining the sloppily spray painted tree.

_Over the river and through the woods._

_What?_

I shove aside my feelings of indignance (how would you like to be a living thing with red spray paint all over you?) to make room for my good buddy Pissed to move in, since it's better than letting Panic and Fear take over. Clues to help me along the way, my butt. I have no idea what this is supposed to mean.

_Over the river and through the woods. _I struggle to remember the next part of the song, and it comes down to unless they're holding Kelsi at my Grandmother Evans' condo three hours east or they've dumped her out on a sleigh somewhere, they mean this one. _Over the river…_I shine my flashlight over the tree once more, and notice a tiny X with small arrows pointing in all four directions.

Gee. That really narrows it down.

I stare at it a moment longer…there has to be something. And then I see it. One of those arrows is white, pointing west. They used white paint for it, but red for the rest. The East High official colors. I take nothing else from it other than I'm supposed to go in the corresponding direction, crossing my fingers in hopes that I've got this.

I walk for a few minutes before I hear the sound of water. Water. River. I dash toward it, and come upon a stream, which I'm pretty sure must lead to a river; that's all we have around here. Now what?

The creature from the Black Lagoon, that's what.

Or at least that's the image that comes to mind when I see the mask that fits the description. Better than the clown masks, that's for sure, but nothing that makes me feel all warm and cozy inside.

I try not to show this, though. My time is running out.

"Okay," I said tiredly, "give it to me."

I'm expecting another riddle, so I'm pretty knocked for six when a glass of something is shoved into my hand.

"What, I'm supposed to drink this?"

"No," the owner of the mask responded, "you're supposed to give it to your mother for Christmas."

Yeah, right. Like I'm really going to chug down some random drink in a random glass that's undoubtedly been passed between random people, all of whom would pay good money to see me thrown over a cliff. For sure.

"I don't suppose I get any kind of get out of jail free card for this thing," I said monotonously.

"No, but you don't have to drink this."

"No? What's my other option?"

"Heading back to start."

That blasted starting line again. I'm beginning to hate that term. And God knows I'll never be able to compete in a potato sack race again, just based on the fact that there _is _a starting line. An egg toss would probably still be pretty safe, though, so I'm good there.

"Well…are you going to be kind enough to tell me what it is?" But I don't really need him to. The smell hits me when the glass comes close enough. It's nothing more than a glass of vodka. Whether there's anything else mixed in with it, I don't know, but you have to give me credit for deducing this much. "So all I have to do is drink some vodka? What's the point of that?"

Though I can't see his face, I have no doubt that he's smirking underneath that pretty little mask. "You'll figure it out, choir boy."

_I'll figure it out…_awwww, _snap. _I get it.

Alcohol. Guaranteed to slow me down once it hits my system and impair my judgment, at least somewhat. And since I don't have any overwhelming experience with drinking, as they all probably knew when they set this up, it's most likely to hit me pretty hard. So I really do have two choices here. I can start from the beginning with a clear mind, or drink this stuff right in the middle, hoping it doesn't take too strong of a hold before I get to Kelsi.

Wow. Life is rough.

Thirty eight minutes.

I've got a decision to make.

Fast.


	12. Blood Work

I'm a big believer in the whole "do as the Romans do" theory. So naturally I'll assume that when one Roman is kind another to grace another with a greeting, the recipient Roman would have the courtesy to return it. But I guess Albuquerque isn't big on Roman culture.

At any rate, the fellow I'm currently waving at isn't.

I stomp up to him, intending to give him a piece of my mind about the way he chooses to implement his etiquette, accomplishing nothing other than smacking into a tree.

Oh.

A tree.

All right. Never mind what I said about Roman hospitality.

By this time, anyone who hasn't been able to deduce my choice needs to walloped over the head with a pineapple and left on a desert island to rot. Anyone who has gets a trip to Bermuda.

I'm lying.

It shouldn't be all that hard to figure out.

Before you start judging me, I certainly don't know what _you _would have done in my situation, but when I personally find myself stuck in a game I never wanted to play and losing means that my twin and my current best friend get the short end of the stick, well, you can't exactly blame me for doing something I might not otherwise do. No way had I been willing to start from scratch, so intoxicated or not, I had to make this work. And the price of it is just beginning to set in.

The few more directional hints I've come across have taken probably twice as long to figure out as they normally would since I'm having trouble focusing. I can't even aim the stupid flashlight very well. I've got thirty minutes to go, which might seem like a lot considering all I've gone through so far, but these guys aren't playing. The stakes are going to be raised, big time. It's not going to surprise me in the least if they're making it so that I don't reach Kelsi at all.

I'm getting anxious now. Almost ten minutes have passed without a sign of anything, and I'm sure I'm going the right way. Of course, I can't remember what I did even two minutes ago, so it's kind of a moot point. Maybe I'm getting…close?

Famous last words.

"Say Evans…"

Suddenly I'm going down like a ballet dancer in a professional wrestling match.

"Tell me something."

I can just barely make out my current opponents; four meatheads in devil masks. How attractive.

"Would you walk on glass for your girl?"

"What?" I'm trying to clear my head here.

"Answer the question."

"I just…I need to get Kelsi," I managed to say.

"Then prove it, Prince Charming." They yanked off my shoes and socks before I had a chance to react and pulled me to my feet.

"What?" I repeated. I'm still not getting him, and my head is starting to kill.

"Just do it!" He shoved me forward, and excruciating pain cut into the bottom of my feet. I can't help but scream at the suddnness of it, tumbling to the ground as I did.

"Twenty two minutes," he cackled.

_Twenty two minutes. _I can't lose it. So even though shards of glass are piercing themselves through my pants, I've got to get up. I accidentally use my hands to help myself up, and realize my mistake too late as glass dug into them as well. I'm doing all I can not to scream again. In spite of the blood trickling down from all areas, I take another step, and another. Whoever first came up with the expression about walking barefoot on broken glass better have done it first, because only saying it as opposed to actually experiencing it are two very different things. I grit my teeth as I try to reach the end of this disgustingly twisted obstacle course, and when I do, I'm facing what seems to be a dead end. All is quiet now, the enemy has disappeared. I fight back the urge to just break down and cry.

My hand brushes against a piece of paper lodged between the endless tangle of brush and trees I've come to, and I have to struggle to read it.

_Through thick and thin._

Through thick and thin what?

There's nothing here, other than the massive trees and other foliage that's so tightly packed together that it would be next to impossible to get through, and other than doubling back (a cold shudder passes through me at the thought of going back through the glass)…

_Wait a minute._

_Through thick and thin._

_They can't possibly…_

I peek through the brush best I can, and about three trees down, I see the beloved Wildcats wrestling logo. Oh, joy. So apparently I _am _supposed to work my way through this stuff. It doesn't seem like a big deal right off, but with no shoes and close to no common sense at the moment, this is really going to blow. I draw in the deepest breath possible and start tearing my way through, and let me tell you, prisoners on death row definitely have it way better than I do right now. At least all they have to do is walk down a long corridor and sit in a chair--for the purpose of the situation, I won't mention the getting fried part. I'm in bare feet, feet which are bleeding rivers of red and still having to go over acorns and sticks and thorns and what have you. My pants and my shirt are going to be goners after this, there's enough rips and tears in both of them to…to…well, I don't know. I was going to say float a boat, but that doesn't really work for this. Let's just go with to something, and leave it at that.

I am dangerously close to tears here, but I see what I believe is an opening ahead and hope begins to bloom. I reach out to brush the last bit of greenery out of the way and…

_Yes._

_I'm out._

I'm so tempted to stop and check all the damage that has been done thus far, but I'm down to sixteen minutes. Regardless of what they have promised me upon finding Kelsi, I don't have any way of knowing what she's going through in the process, or even if they're going to make good on what they say. For all I know, she's not even in these woods but hidden away somewhere a hundred miles in the opposite direction, but…I've got to do this.

Somehow I know that if it's come to this and still no Kelsi, this is not the worse thing that's going to go down, so I brace myself with every step. After approximately eleven minutes, though, my caution starts to wane.

Word to the wise? Don't be like me. Always stay one step ahead.

Oh, and stay in school.

That's the last bit of advice I have time to give you before I'm completely knocked off my feet. The last thing I want to do is open my eyes and see what's awaiting me now, but I figure it's inevitable, so here I go.

The whole posse is looking down at me. Those who I've met along the way of this delightful journey and more that I don't recognize, but figure they must be on the team, as every last one of them is bearing a mask of some sort. Something tells me that this must be the grand finale, but I kid you not, I'm frozen in fear over what this finale may consist of. Before I know what's happening, I'm yanked up by my shirt and facing the same Grim Reaper who had addressed me in the beginning.

"How ya doing, Evans?" he asked me quietly, and I admit, my response was probably not the best thing for the current situation. I threw up at his feet. I couldn't help it. All I know is that I'm never eating honey roasted peanuts again.

"Well, that's one way to put it." He sounded amused. "Now I'm going to put it to you another way. When I was a young lad, maybe in that eight to nine age range, I lived on a farm."

Oh, so _that _explains why you were so obviously born in a barn.

"My mom had a pretty nifty vegetable garden out in the back, if I do say so myself," he went on. "There was only one problem."

The vegetables showed more of a mental capacity than you did?

"Rabbits. They didn't care about all the work she put into that garden, you know? They just helped themselves. Whatever, whenever, wherever. Well, so we couldn't let that happen, could we? So what do you think we did about it?"

_Whatever it was, I'm not going to like it._

"Rabbit season, as my dad called it. Once a week. He would go out there and give those little fellas their…just due, if you know what I'm saying."

Unfortunately, I do.

"I should take this opportunity to point out that he was a fair man, Evans. He didn't just pounce on them when they were least expecting it. Rather, he gave them a minute or so to run. Never worked," he chuckled, "but they had their chance. The same chance we're going to give you."

Somehow, I'm not comforted by this. "That you're going to…"

He laughed. "I wouldn't waste my time asking questions. I think you should just run."

I did what he said. I don't know exactly what's going on here, but it can't be good, and one last glance at the group that had assembled told me I didn't want to stick around.

This is no easy task, mind you. My feet are screaming at me to let up on them, my head, just about every part of my body right now. I don't know where I'm going, and I can't remember anything--the alcohol is rocketing through my system. I just know I have to run.

In less than a minute, I crash into a solid wall of bodies and more are coming up behind me. I search frantically for an escape route, and there's none. All I can do is attempt to curl myself up in a ball while the blows rain down on me, brace my sides as they're practically kicked in, grit my teeth so hard they're this close to cracking when I'm struck in the back with what feels like a heavy chain. The next second brings a baseball bat to my ribs which shatter on impact. When I hear screams, I realize they're not only mine, but Shar's as well. My anger boils at the thought of them dragging my sister all the way through the woods to watch her brother basically getting annihilated. There are times where I honestly think she couldn't care less, but her screaming conveys just the opposite now.

I clutch at the ground, digging my nails into the dirt until I can barely stand the pain of that in addition to the pain that's being delivered by others. My resolve is slipping.

I'm going to die.

_If you're there, God, _I pleaded silently as my vision grew funny and darkness came closer, _I could really use your help right now._


	13. Coming To A Head

I look up just in time to make out the already blood stained bat, which is raised and ready to come down cleanly on my head, and I know that's going to be it for me. The last thing I'm going to hear, other than Sharpay begging them to stop through her tears, is all the hatred I've ever had to endure from kindergarten up to now. What a way to go.

I close my eyes, preparing for the blow that never actually comes.

"Son?…Can you hear me?…Here, can you get to your feet?"

"What?" I murmured numbly. A second ago, I was on my way to getting killed and now someone's trying to help me up.

"Hey, I need some help over here!"

"Ryan?" Gabriella's sweet voice, stricken with tears, comes to me.

"Gabriella," I said blankly.

"It's okay, Ryan…" A male voice spoke up again. I squint, trying to see who it is, and I can just make out the blue and white of what I'm assuming is a police officer. Another one appears next to them, and they try to me up. I cry out as they brush across my broken ribs, and the first officer feels around as gently as possible.

"Okay, that's not going to work," he said to his partner. "His ribs are shot. Is the ambulance on its way?"

"Just called it in."

"Okay, kiddo," he said to me, helping me in a position so that I'm flat on my back. "I know you're having a rough time, but just hang in there for me. The ambulance will be here in just a bit, and I'm going to stay with you until they come. I'm Jeff, okay? You need something, you call my name. Some night, huh?"

"Kelsi…they..."

"Kelsi's going to be fine," he reassured me. "She's not very far from here, and my buddies Mark and Jamie went off to find her. They're good guys and they'll get to her, I promise."

"She…they were going to…" I start coughing before I can say anything further, inducing more vomit.

"Whoa, slow down there, buddy. Here." He gently props up my head and produces a cloth which he begins cleaning me with. "It's okay."

"Gabriella," I said again.

"I'm right here, Ryan." She knelt next to me, and Troy was with her, both looking as if they've been through the wars. "We found out what was going to happen before they even brought you here and we tried to sneak away and warn you, but they caught us and forced us to go back to the crowd. We were able to get away again once they took Sharpay into the woods so we looked for you everywhere and tried to get a signal so we could call the police. It only picked up about ten minutes ago."

"Chad and Taylor tried to follow us," Troy added shakily, "but they didn't get very far before someone found out what they were doing and knocked them out. They should be okay, though."

I stared up at the night sky, almost unable to believe all that was being thrown at me.

"You doing okay, bud?" Jeff asked me, laying a comforting hand over my shoulder.

I opened my mouth to answer, but I burst into tears instead. Troy and Gabriella retreated just a bit, not used to seeing me cry, and Jeff sighed, but not in annoyance, more in sympathy.

"Ryan! Ryan!"

My sister shoved her way frantically between Troy and Gabriella, and if Jeff hadn't caught her, I don't doubt she would have thrown herself on to me.

"Careful," he cautioned before releasing her, "they did quite a number on him."

She knelt down, tears falling from her face on to mine, and mixing with my own.

"Oh God, Ryan, I didn't know about any of this, I swear I didn't," she sobbed. "I should have known what they were going to do and I would have protected you, but I didn't do it. I didn't want to believe that any of this was true. I'm so sorry…" She leaned down, putting her arms around me and resting her head on my chest as she wept, and we cried together for everything that had gone on.

"You couldn't have known, Sharpay," I whispered hoarsely. "I didn't want to cause you any trouble. It's not your fault."

"You're not any trouble," she whispered back, amidst gasps and hiccups. "You're my brother. My perfect brother. Who isn't anything I've ever said he is. Oh God, look at you. Look at what they did. Ryan, I love you. I love you." She kissed my cheeks and then my forehead in turn. "You have to be okay."

"He'll be okay, Sharpay," Jeff told her. "He just needs time."

"Shar," I said as I stroked her long blonde hair, "do you have your cell? Is it working?" Mine had met its unfortunate demise earlier in the evening, which felt more like a few years instead of just a few hours.

"It's right here," she sniffled, brushing her tears away before retrieving it from a pocket in her designer jeans. "Why? Who are you calling?"

I hold the phone out in front of me as if it's something that possesses the most precious value and enter in a number. I'm overcome with tears once more when I hear the familiar voice on the line.

"Mama?" I choked out. "We need you."


	14. The Beginning of the End

_All right, kids. Here we are, the conclusion. I hate this part. I feel like I've been on a journey with you guys and even Ryan, weird as that may sound, as I've written this, and now it's come to an end. I need to extend a huge thank you to all of you who took the time to read and review. Please keep in mind that any tips/criticisms that I received I have kept in mind and appreciate you for pointing them out. I couldn't even begin to tell you when I'll start pumping out another fic, but I have some ideas and hopefully they'll make themselves known after too long. I think after all this I owe you guys some Rypay fluff so I'll be thinking about that, another Ryan angst (what can I say? He's so fun and easy to torture!) and that's about all I've got in my head right now. Oh, also I'm not sure how many of you read my oneshot "If Only"--I've had some messages asking me to add to it and even though I like it the way it is, I'm not against turning it into a full fic, so if you guys want to hop on over and take a look, and let me know what you would like, I would definitely take your input into consideration. Ok, well, time for me to get off my ramble box and let you guys get to the chap! Thanks again for all your support!_

* * *

"Sharpay Evans, you be careful with your brother!" 

"I _am!" _Yet she didn't reduce the speed she was putting forth to the cursed wheelchair I'm sentenced to until my ribs are further along in the healing process.

My mom didn't say anything, just flashed one of those "what can you do" smiles to herself before going back into the house.

"Oh, ow! Ow, ow!" I protested as Shar took a corner too fast, putting raw pressure on my ribs.

"Oops, sorry," she giggled, letting up a bit. "Want to go down to the lake?"

"I do if we go slowly."

"I can arrange that, sir." She giggled again and we started for the lake, lapsing into silence. It's hard to imagine that a mere two weeks before, you couldn't pay me enough to go away with my parents and sister, but now I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. They had much preferred Hawaii as a brief holiday, but medical purposes forced us to go no further than a quiet lakeside getaway two hours east of home. The circumstances had softened my parents into not balking at our missing a week or two of school.

And naturally, they put a quick kibosh on the Maine plan once they found out the whole story. 'The whole story' includes the entire wrestling team being put on probation, some even in juvenile detention centers and awaiting final sentences. East High as I know it now won't exactly be the picture of perfection once we return to it, but either way, I think we're going to be surprised.

Hopefully one thing that won't fit into that category will be Kelsi. I'd only talked to her a few times, but she seems to be recovering nicely, considering she spent three hours tied to a tree stump in the middle of the woods and forced to endure endless sexual slurs and God only knows what else the whole time. She swears no one raped her or did anything they shouldn't have, and I just hope she's not lying to save trouble.

Shar leaned forward and rested her chin on my shoulder. "Whatcha thinking about?"

"I don't know. It's just weird to think about everything that's happened and what they'll be like now."

We reached the shore and she set the brake before kneeling in the sand next to my chair. "Are you okay?"

I can't help but smile at the very un-Sharlike question. I can count on one hand the number of occasions she's asked, or at least asked and really wanted to know.

"Yeah. I think so."

She ran her fingers through the sand for a few moments. "I was trying to figure out what to say to you, you know, after I read your journal. At first I wanted to believe that you could lie to yourself, but…I knew you'd never do that. Maybe if I'd…" She looked away, and I knew my twin's eyes were welling up again, as they had done so many times before in the past weeks.

"You didn't do anything, Sharpay. They would have found a way to pull this off with or without you. Do you believe me?"

"I'll try."

"Anyway, if you _had, _there's no way you would have made it that easy." I grinned. "I would have gone right over like a tree in the forest."

Her response to that was to fling lake water in my direction.

"Hey!" I sputtered as my shorts and shirt got soaked, "that's not fair! I can't even fight back!"

"That's the point, jerkwad!" She repeated her action, but I get her one better by scooping up wet sand from over the side of my chair and hurling it at her. For a second I think the game has lost its appeal as it settled in her long blonde hair, but she proves me wrong and by the time my mom calls us for dinner, we each look as if we've been on a military trek in the midst of a monsoon.

"Mom's going to take one look at us and go--" I try to perfect the scream of shock that's sure to emanate from our mother when she sees our soiled appearance. Sharpay doubles over at my imitation and only straightens up when my mom calls us for a second time, sounding more impatient now. My parents have kind of a low tolerance of having to call us for something more than once.

As we struggle through the doorway and Sharpay kicks off her now filthy Gucci flip flops, a shriek echoes throughout the house that's honestly not too far off the mark from my simulation of it. Sharpay and I glanced at each other, and then back at our mother, whose hands had flown up to her chest as if she were having a heart attack, then back at each other before she and I became absolutely sick with laughter. I'm gripping the arm of my wheelchair in mirth, and Sharpay trips over her flip flops and ends up on the floor, still hysterical. My parents are desperately trying to restore order, but Shar and I are too far gone. I look up long enough to see a smile playing at my dad's mouth, and once my mom sees it, she starts smiling too. Soon they're laughing with us, harder than I've seen either of them laugh before. To top it off, the acrid smell of smoke invades our nostrils and by the time my mom gets to the oven, our chicken casserole is done for. We ceased in our hilarity for exactly three seconds before it ensued once more, and eventually we just gave up and sent out for pizza.

I'm feeling pretty good as I savor my vegetarian slice and watch my parents and sister chat freely.

I really am okay.

* * *

A hush falls throughout the halls as Sharpay and I enter the doors of East High. Kelsi breaks it by disentangling herself from Jason, who's apparently come to his senses, and flinging herself at me, trying to hug me in my crippled state. Troy and Gabriella are watching from not far away. 

"Hey, man," Chad grinned, slapping me a high five as Shar pushes me past him, and Taylor smiled at me too. They're both still somewhat black and blue, but it will pass.

The faces that have once been enemies no longer seem like enemies; not best friends, but nobody looks as if they possess the hunger to gut me and sell my organs on E-Bay at the moment. People smile at me as Sharpay steers me to my locker, some pat me on the back, some say hello. A new world at East High is opening up to me.

"Guess you and your girlfriend are going to have to spring for wheelchair classes, hey, Evans?" an unpleasantly familiar voice threw at me. I barely have time to glance behind me at Jeremy Straight and Christopher Hertz before Sharpay has them both up against the opposite wall of lockers, speaking softly but, as far as I can make out, devilishly. I don't know what she's saying, but the end result turns out to be the two athletic superstars scurrying away as if they're walking barefoot on hot coals.

"What did you say?" I asked her when she returned to me.

"It doesn't matter what I said," she said, a twinkle in her eye, and I know she's right. In the end, everything changes.

But everything stays the same.


End file.
